The Confessor
by Fate Likes Fools
Summary: Sequel to The Confidant. Roma is alive and beautiful, but laced with vicious corruption. Loyalties falter and questions are asked on both sides. The past has always been difficult to ignore.
1. Insieme per la Vittoria

The Confessor

Chapter I: Insieme per la Vittoria

She was the first to awake, wrapped tightly in his arms, seeing no need to move and disturb the blissful moment. She never imagined herself in that position, and she never considered how _safe_ she felt right there with him. If the world spontaneously collapsed, she had a strong feeling she'd be unaffected by it all.

Watching him sleep was something she always enjoyed doing. There was always something so peaceful about his expressions. And she had a warm feeling that he trusted her enough to show her such a vulnerable side of himself. Unconsciously, her hand reached out and began to gently caress his cheek. The hair of his beard tickled the tips of her fingers as she traced aimlessly over his skin. A small smile stretched across her face.

She wanted to protect him. She wasn't the only one who'd always been alone. The both of them faced their own separate demons. The both of them betrayed by those they once called trusted friends. She felt selfish for not considering that side of him. Hide as he may behind a wall of wisdom and skill, she knew Ezio better than he thought. He was terrified of losing her.

And she was terrified of losing him. More than she cared to admit, even to herself.

He stirred shortly afterward, a lazy, catlike smile stretching across his face when their eyes met.

"_Salve_," he said. "I actually half-expected you to not be there when I woke up."

Her eyebrow rose. "And why is that?"

"Because that is what almost always happens." And with that, his arms around her tightened even further. She sighed and began to absently draw little circles on his chest with the tips of her fingers. It didn't go unnoticed.

"You know, if you're up for it …" he trailed off suggestively, and even though she didn't look up, she knew exactly what expression was on his face. Her heart skipped a beat or two, but she retained a semblance of calm.

She threw her head back in a laugh. "_Dio mio_, do you ever think about anything else?"

"I am nothing if not a normal man with desires."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say normal," she argued with another laugh. "But if we have it your way I won't be able to walk for a week."

He audibly smirked, burying his face in her neck, dragging his lips across her skin. "I see nothing wrong with that minor … consequence." Oh, she was positive he'd love for her to be happily undressed and waiting for him every day for a week.

She rolled her eyes. "_Sei pazzo_, Ezio Auditore."

"Well then, you're in bed with a crazy man," he replied coyly, waggling his eyebrows. "How very bold of you, Gemma Auditore."

"If I recall," she drawled, "I am not Gemma Auditore yet." The sound that name, however, made her heart flutter.

"I actually wanted to discuss that with you," he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "What do you think of just taking on my name and just … _being_ my wife, instead of the formality and frivolity of a wedding?"

Her eyebrows rose in confusion. "You were so excited about planning a wedding."

"I know," he replied. "I'd just … rather not bother."

She frowned. This wasn't like him. "Ezio, if I am to be your wife, you are going to have to tell me everything that worries you."

There was a long pause before he answered. "The head of the church is the man who killed my father and brothers, Gemma. He is the man who turned my life upside down. And not only that, I just _cannot_ believe in religion after what I have seen in this bizarre life I have led. And I would feel like such a hypocrite, standing before 'God' and promising myself to you when I _already _have, _cara_. Many, many times. I do not need a God for it."

Wordlessly, she kissed his mouth. He was so good at persuasion, it almost hurt. She understood, and was not even surprised. Her own faith was extraordinarily questionable. "I understand, Ezio."

"Ah, I hoped you would," he murmured. He held her against him for a bit. "I love you."

"And I you," she said. "You owe me big time. I was looking forward to a wedding."

He chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead, and continued down her face. "You never cease to amuse me."

"Glad I could be of service, as your humble court jester." She was on a roll with the sarcastic comebacks, and he laughed, rolling on top of her so that she lied directly under him. A hungry look was on his face – and she was positive food was the last thing on his mind. Silently, he traced a finger from the indent of her collar bone to the valley between her breasts. He never broke her gaze.

For a moment, she stopped him. "You do realize everyone in this town is going to think us to be sinful wretches for not getting formally married, yes?"

"And when have I ever cared what people think?" he replied impatiently, making a good point. He bent down and kissed her slowly, but with just enough impatience to tantalize her entire body. Realizing it'd be best to just cooperate with his insatiable lust, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him there, smiling through the warmth of his lips and the tickle of his beard.

In the distance, she heard a loud bang, freezing and breaking off the kiss. "What was that?"

Unperturbed, he tilted his head to get back down to business. "Probably just training exercises." They were abruptly interrupted when something that looked like a cannon ball came crashing through the room, destroying everything in its path. Ezio shielded Gemma with his body for a moment until everything calmed down, then he leapt off the bed to put his clothes on.

"_Merda_," he audibly growled. "I have to find Mario and rally the troops." She did the same, rapidly pulling on a very simple dress she normally wore under her clothes and grabbed her sword.

"I'll go and get some of the men and–!"

"No!" he cried, cupping her face with his hands. And as she angrily tried to protest, he silenced her with a swift kiss. "You misunderstand, _cara –_ I _know_ you are capable of fighting, believe me, but I want you to help make sure my mother, sister and the townspeople get out safely. I only trust you with something like this. Please."

She paused for a moment and nodded vigorously. "_Va bene,_ I'll do that."

"Stay safe, _amore mio_." He embraced her for half a second, seized her face, kissing her roughly. With a final, torn look he went dashing in the opposite direction, out the window and into the chaos.

"You too," she whispered, though she was fairly sure he hadn't heard her.

* * *

><p>When she descended the stairs it took a little while to discern all the ruckus – but the building was collapsing and it was in everyone's best interest to leave, and quickly. She was already quick to usher Claudia and Maria outside.<p>

"What's going on?" Claudia demanded.

"We're under attack, that much is pretty obvious," Gemma replied. "But we can discuss this later, first, we need to get everyone to safety!"

As she attempted to run off, Claudia grabbed her hand a moment. "Where is Ezio?"

"Where else would he be?" Gemma inclined her head to the front of the town. Noting the terrified look on her face, she took a hold of Claudia's shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, Claudia, your brother is the strongest man I know. He won't go down, no matter how many times his enemies try to get his head." _Or at least, this is what I'm telling myself_. Claudia nodded in agreement. Gemma turned her attention to the fleeing citizens, yelling as loud as she could.

"_Everyone_! You _must_ go to the Sanctuary – there, you will wait until Ezio arrives, and we will lead you to safety." Despite the loud chaos, many of them managed to hear Gemma's orders and all scrambled to the safety of the Sanctuary. She motioned to follow them, but was consumed by worry. The walls wouldn't hold much longer, and Ezio was in the middle of all the confusion.

She knew he was perfectly capable of handling himself. But Monteriggioni was not exactly heavy on man power, and one man could only do so much against an entire army. And as she took in the sight of the cannonballs flying and the infrastructure crumbling before her eyes, she assumed the worst must have been out there.

Following her gut instinct, she ran into the town square, her eyes darting all around her as buildings collapsed and the screams of the people mixed into the air. Her hand unconsciously wandered to the hilt of her sword. She gripped it for a moment before dashing into battle with nothing more than a white chemise covering her body.

She would receive hell for it, but she decided that such things were trivial in times like this.

As she ran, she managed to make out Mario, of all people, storming toward the back exit of Monteriggioni. She belted at him.

He whirled when she put her hand on his shoulder, his blade unsheathed and his eyes wide and incredulous. "Gemma! Good God, child, I nearly killed you just now."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I am leading a frontal assault," he proclaimed. "My men are–!"

"Take me with you!" she insisted. "I can fight, I can–!"

"Absolutely not," Mario replied sharply, shaking his head. "First of all, you have never been in open war combat before, secondly, Ezio would have my head on a silver platter, and thirdly, you're in your underwear."

Her jaw tightened under her skin. He was right, but she did not like that fact. "I do not want to stand around and be useless!"

"You have never been useless," he said. "You brought my nephew back from a very dark place, Gemma. He is more lively now. More … relaxed. Happier. What you have done for Ezio is something that I could have never done."

Their time to talk had run out, and Mario hastily grabbed on to both of her shoulders, a serious look in his wrinkling face. "If I do not make it out of this, he is your responsibility. Take care of him like you have been, make sure he does not get himself killed. He is the closest thing to a son I have ever had, and I take pride in the fact that he is in your care. Do not fail me, hm?"

The old man's harsh smile made her smile, as a result. "You can count on me."

"I know." He placed a rapid kiss on her forehead and bolted off into battle. She had an unexplainable ache in her chest as he disappeared out of sight, but she shrugged it off and snapped herself back into attention. There were still townspeople scrambling to escape, and she had to aid them.

Men, women, and children were calling out the names of their loved ones as their world literally crumbled before them. Buildings collapsed, shops were destroyed, the air was filled with dust, debris and death. Her jaw slackened in horror as everything she came to consider as her home disintegrated before her. The emotions she was feeling, all crowded together in her head, couldn't be summed up in one word.

Everyone around her had been reduced to panicked ants. All scrambling to be saved as their homes evaporated before their very eyes, forgetting about friends and neighborly alliances in an instant. All that mattered was the immediate family, and then themselves. Civilized people, turned into fleeing animals all in the snap of a finger. She could hear mothers calling out to their misplaced children, husbands to their misplaced wives, and children to their misplaced mothers.

But what struck her the most was one young woman, standing all by herself, absolutely petrified with a bulging stomach, calling out to her husband. She looked to be about in her mid-twenties with light brown hair and wide, frightened brown eyes. Her body was thin and a bit weak-looking despite her pregnant belly. Again and again, she screamed this man's name. _Marco! Marco! Marco!_

The poor woman, dirtied from the chaos all around her, stood rooted to the spot, despite the fact that buildings were falling around her. Gemma's eyes sharply shifted to a piece of a rooftop that was crumbling down and looked to be aiming its decent directly on top of the woman, and she sprung into action, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of harm's way. The shards of rooftop crashed to the ground.

She let out a small yelp, but other than that, clung on to Gemma's arm with a shaking hand. The woman was hysterical, and Gemma attempted to sound civil. "Please, you must flee!"

"B – But my husband, my Marco, he told me to wait here, I cannot just–!"

Her jaw hardened. "Do you want a future for your child?"

She looked stunned by the question. "O – Of course."

"Then protect it! I'm sure your husband will meet you on the other side, and the both of you will be safe. It is far too dangerous to linger here!" The woman stood there, conflicted for many moments as she was torn between two options. Finally, she quietly thanked Gemma and ran off toward the villa, toward safety. She sighed with relief for a moment, and turned her attention to everyone else.

She screamed the same orders again and again at the confused people. Some listened, others decided to disregard her. Gemma honestly did not blame them, because she looked like a mad woman with a sword at her side and nothing covering herself but undergarments.

Suddenly, a blast roared into the air, and her eyes widened in horror as enemy soldiers began to pile atop the walls in handful after handful. But that was the least of her worries.

"_They're breaching the gates!"_ She hastily jumped back, debris flying everywhere as the gates of Monteriggioni crumbled, and in stepped someone out of her very worst nightmares. Her heart froze in her chest as Cesare Borgia strode proudly into the town, a blond woman on his arm and several generals behind him, one of them holding Caterina Sforza hostage.

Her hands began to tremble when Mario Auditore stumbled forward, collapsing on the ground in exhaustion. _No_, she thought frantically. She wanted to scream at all of them and liberate the man that had given her the skills to survive, but her voice seemed to shrivel away right when she needed it most.

"I know you're there, Ezio!" Cesare bellowed, not noticing her presence. "The Pope told me about you and your little group of Assassins … _and this_!" He brandished the Apple, holding it high in the air with that menacing smirk he was so talented at on his face. She felt sick to her stomach.

"Give me the gun his friend fashioned for us," he continued on, snatching a golden weapon from one of his general's hands. "We've had too much bloodshed, I think a cleansing is in order. So consider this an invitation from _my family_ … to yours."

He pointed it directly at Mario, and every single thought in her was screaming for her to save him, to do something, to stop the horrible thing that was about to happen, but her legs wouldn't move. Her entire body was as frigid as a statue – and that moment of hesitation was all she had before the shot rang off, and he was gone.

She let out an involuntary scream, falling to her knees and immediately cursing herself for it. It was enough to alert Cesare of her standing not ten feet away from him.

A sickening, twisted smile stretched across his face. "I would remember those eyes anywhere. So nice to see you again, Gemma."

"_Do not just stand there_!" Caterina cried out, struggling against the man who was holding her back. "Run, _idiota_, run!"

He pointed the gun directly at her. "We have too extensive of a past for you to simply _run_, don't you think? Oh, the Pope was so furious when he figured out you had escaped. And then I thought … where would she go? This is a stubborn woman, she would never return to Ezio. I stand corrected, I see. And I easily assume he's bedded you at this point …" he paused, sizing her up while taking a step forward, "… congratulations."

"_Vai al diavolo_," she snarled, though still hadn't found the strength to _move_. This was the man that single-handedly stole everything she was looking ahead to. For once in her life, she could actually picture the future for not even a full day. Was she never allowed to be _hopeful_? Is this what fate had decided for her?

She knew only one thing at that moment. She hated Cesare more than she hated anyone else in the entire world, and she would have liked nothing more than to shove her blade straight into his throat.

He laughed. "You know, I was thinking about what kind of information I could get from Ezio's ally and occasional whore, Sforza – but with _you_, oh I'm sure you have _so many secrets_ hidden in your mind. And this time … we won't be using the basement. So tell me, Gemma, are you going to come to me quietly or am I going to have shoot your leg beforehand?"

He was close enough that he extended a seemingly friendly hand to her, and with a shaking hand, she took it, slowly standing to her feet with his help. But that wasn't before she'd managed to shove her hand into the ground, collecting the dirt into her palm.

"I am glad to see you are reasonable," Cesare said smugly.

She met his eyes. "You seem to be misinformed. Ezio tells me I am the most unreasonable person he's ever met." And with that, she flung the collected dirt and dust from the palm of her hand into his eyes, and as he roared with the unexpected sting, his grip on her released. She turned on her heel, running a beeline in the opposite direction.

Cesare barked orders that she be tracked and seized – painfully – but she paid it no heed, instead running in the direction of the villa.

"_Signora_!" She turned at the sound of a mercenary calling her, and they gestured with much strain to a crumpled figure.

_No, no, no, no_, her thoughts began to scramble like a pack of angered bees as she made out Ezio, and she dashed over to him. He was bleeding from the shoulder and at the hip. He'd been shot. She crouched at his side and slapped his face softly about three times.

"Ezio!" she cried. "_Ezio_, _Dio mio_, wake _up_!" He groaned, and that was enough consolation – he was alive. Injured, but alive.

"We must move him to a safer spot, _signora_," one of the mercenaries informed her in a hushed tone. "They will find us if we linger." She nodded once and let the two men take either of Ezio's arms, dragging him across the ground. She bit her lip at how painful that must have been, but decided that was the least of Ezio's problems.

They managed to get him near the crumbled remains of the church until Ezio suddenly became very animated. "_Basta_! I can walk." He shoved them off, struggling to his feet. Their eyes met and he gave her a look of shock before he was cut off.

"_Look out!_ They are coming – everyone, retreat to the villa!" a mercenary ordered, pointing with terror at the advancing Borgia troops.

Ezio audibly groaned in pain, clutching his gut. She cringed. "I cannot fight like this." He glanced to the fleeing men. "_Stand with me!"_

"_No!"_ she snapped, standing in front of him with her sword unsheathed. "I'll fight. Stand back, Ezio." Had the man finally lost it, running into battle with two gaping holes in his body?

"Gemma, I swear to God–!" he began to growl. The furious look in his eyes startled her.

She stepped mere centimeters from his face. "I need you to shut up and trust me with this for once in your life, Ezio." She whirled on her heel as the troops cried out in unison and came charging at her. She nodded once at the other men and lunged at a nearby soldier, landing a jab into his throat.

Gemma turned her attention to another, this one actually having a chance to talk. "So the Assassins send women to do a man's job!"

"Women tend to do men's jobs a bit better." And with that, she ran her blade through the man's chest and with a gurgle, he fell to the ground, dead. The other men took the rest of the soldiers.

She looked to one of them that had just finished off a soldier. "_You!_ Help Ezio walk."

"I can _walk_, Gemma," he snarled.

Ignoring him, she continued. "Correction: make sure he does not try to swing that sword around. You answer to _me_ right now, not him, _capisco?"_

He looked dumbfounded for a few moments before nodding his head. "Y – Yes, _signora_, whatever you say, _signora_."

She smiled. "Good." She ran ahead with the rest of them to fight off the remaining soldiers lingering around the entrance to the villa, disregarding the charming slew of curses that Ezio uttered upon realizing he was being babysat.

She fought her way through the guards, feeling a bit confident in her abilities after only really practicing with the occasional mercenary in the training ring. She mistakenly paused a moment to catch her breath when one of the soldiers swung his sword, and it cut a horizontal gash across her stomach.

Gemma hissed sharply, kicking the bastard in the gut and burying the blade directly into his neck.

"_Gemma!"_ Ezio called out when the soldiers were all dead, limping up to her. "You've done enough, let me–!"

"I – am – _fine_," she growled, willing herself to forget about the sting of the wound right then, for the battle had only just begun. She very much wanted to force him to _believe_ in her for about ten minutes, but that was the equivalent of sprouting wings and flying away. The both of them were too stubborn to give in.

The injured woman ascended the stairs, her mind snapping to attention at the sight of enemy soldiers surrounding several of Monteriggioni's own defenses – one of them ending up being Claudia.

One of them advanced on her, and she screamed, grabbing the enemy's arm, rendering his blade useless in the air as an attempt to hold him off. She looked past Gemma to her brother. "_Ezio_!"

He sprung into action faster than she could register, brandishing his sword in the face of the man who dared harm his little sister, and she chose in that moment not to distract everyone by commenting. She herself lunged at a soldier, their blades ringing threateningly against each other.

"Get inside the Sanctuary!" Ezio barked to both Claudia and Gemma, emphasizing his every word.

"Follow me!" Claudia cried, running toward the safe haven. She wanted to stay back and fight with him, but she was also afraid for Claudia, who had just run off all by herself while the opponents were surely waiting to attack any and all citizens of the town.

"Seize the whore – _Ser Cesare wants her alive!"_ She swore to herself when a handful of soldiers jumped down from the walls, effectively surrounding her. She stabbed her blade into the chest of the one directly blocking her way.

Some of the men managed to help her, one of them stopping her with a hand to the shoulder when her pursuers were dead. "What do they want with you?"

She scowled. "They believe that I am the key to breaking Ezio." He nodded, and roared orders to make sure none of the Borgia managed to overwhelm her. She sighed to herself, looking ahead to see that Claudia was safe and that Ezio was running toward the both of them.

They finally made it into Mario's study – the thought of him made her heart twist painfully in her chest – and into the entrance of the Sanctuary. There was a man there with a cloth covering one eye and wearing the garb of a thief.

"Stop! Wait for us!" Ezio said as the man attempted to run off, placing his hand on the book case that was closing, motioning the both of them to go through.

"We thought you had been killed, _Ser_ Ezio!" the thief replied quickly.

There was a brief pause. "Not yet."

"Where does this passage lead?" the man asked.

"To the north, outside the walls," Ezio answered.

"I am surprised it exists!" She did not understand why, but the man gave her an unfortunate feeling. There was something very uneasy about the way he stood. His voice up shot up an octave when he spoke to Ezio. Often, he glanced back and forth between the exit and the tunnel to the Sanctuary. Something about the man made her skin crawl, but she could not pin point how or why.

Ezio stepped on the stone block that would close the door, and the man bent his way out before it closed. "Let me through, I must go help the troops!" With his only working hand, he barred the doors shut.

"Hurry, Ezio!" Claudia cried, already down the stairs, and with a grab of Gemma's hand, the both of them descended the many steps. He held onto her so tightly that it was almost painful.

"Where is Mother? Is she all right?"

"I am here, Ezio!" Maria's voice called out from the bottom of the steps, and he sighed with acute relief.

"_Grazie a Dio_." He squeezed Gemma's hand when they finally reached the inner Sanctuary to see both Claudia and Maria patiently waiting for their son while the rest of the townspeople filed into the escape route.

"We could not leave without you," Claudia said in explanation as to why they hadn't fled beforehand.

"The way out will be dangerous," he said instead. "Protect our mother."

He motioned to leave with the rest of them before Gemma stopped him. Wordlessly, she tore off a shard of the bottom of her chemise and began to wrap it around Ezio's wound, ignoring his protests. "Ezio, please, let me handle this. You're hurt and–!"

"Are you asking me to stand back like a child while the life of my family is in danger?" he demanded darkly.

"Of course not," she whispered, shaking her head vigorously. "But you cannot even move your arm. And I can _fight_."

He sighed heavily. "I know you can, but consider my position. It is my duty to protect my mother, my sister … and you. I cannot let you get yourself killed because of _my_ enemy." He placed his hands over the wound on her stomach, and she frowned.

"He is my enemy, too," Gemma reminded him sharply.

"I know," he replied. "You cannot imagine how stressful it is to watch the woman I love, in battle, dressed in little more than her underwear."

She snorted in brief laughter for a moment. "Do not get me started." He cracked a tiny smile, taking her hand and leading her into the passage.

* * *

><p>Green eyes squinted as the sting of sunlight was finally visible on the other side of the tunnel, and as they emerged, she had such an urge to collapse on the nearest pile of hay and sleep. But such a luxury had long since past – what mattered then was figuring out where to go from there. Monteriggioni had been lost, but the real battles were only beginning.<p>

"Where is Mario?" Claudia asked at one point. "I thought he would be waiting for us."

Gemma's heart sunk as Ezio answered the question in a voice so devoid of life, it almost made a shudder run up her spine. "Mario is dead. You _must_ leave this place – take mother to Firenze."

She could see the pure hatred burning in his eyes, but also the crippling exhaustion from his injuries and the loss of the battle. His normally confident, healthy stride was now something of a limp, and he clutched his wounded hip, but she could see him attempting to hide his pain. In his other hand, he held onto her hand, and his grip was tight. Much more than usual. He was afraid; petrified, even.

"Get me a horse!" he bellowed to no one in particular. Her heart froze.

"You are not coming with us?" Claudia demanded, and Gemma could see the outrage on her face. "Where are you riding?"

He spoke with a chilling finality. "To Roma." Roma? All by himself? When he's barely able to _walk_?

Maria stepped forward, her arms crossed neatly in front of her waist. "Go, my son. _Destroy them_. But remember for _whom_ we Assassins fight." His mother's eyes weren't as confident as Gemma thought they would be, however. As if she didn't support the idea.

He mounted the horse, but she was quick to run at him, grabbing his arm.

"I'm coming with you," she insisted.

"No," he deadpanned. "Let me go, Gemma."

"_No_!" she fumed, furious that he had the slightest delusion that he could handle the situation on his own. "You're _hurt_, Ezio, I am not so foolish to let you go by yourself."

He sighed heavily, as if she was a child that spoke out of turn. "This is not a matter of discussion. In Firenze, it is safe. And I need you to protect my mother and sister."

"But what about _you_?" Gemma hissed, her fingers curling around the sleeve of his shirt.

"I am going to do what I must," he said darkly. "And if I do not come back, then so be it."

She wanted to slap some form of sense into him. "Ezio, Mario did not die in vain! Please, see reason, we can _plan_ this, we can–!" He silenced her with a hand over her mouth, brushing his thumb across her lips and resting his hand against her face for a few fleeting moments. He was silent, an expressionless look on his face. As if he was studying her for one last time. His lips, soft and warm, pressed against her forehead.

"Protect them, Gemma." And he snapped the reins, riding off to what could likely be the death of him.

"_Bastardo_," she snarled to herself when he was out of sight.

"_Bastardo_ is right," Claudia agreed, a scowl on her face. "He expects us to go quietly to Firenze while he rides to Roma, wounded as he is?"

"You know your brother, Claudia," Maria pointed out calmly. "He wishes to protect us, but perhaps it is too much."

Gemma's hands clenched into fists. Ezio might think he could handle everything himself, but she knew him better than that. She made a promise to Mario to protect him, and she would surely die than break such a promise. "I intend to follow Ezio to Roma."

Maria cracked a small smile. "I expected nothing less."

"I will not make you both accompany me," she continued, "because … let's face it, we don't know what lies in that city. It will be dangerous. I can steal to survive, but it will be risky."

"Of course I'm coming with you," Claudia replied sharply, putting her hands on her hips with a firm, unshakeable look. "I have been coddled and protected by my brother for years. It's high time he sees I am a capable human being."

Gemma put a hand on her shoulder. "He barely thinks _I'm_ capable."

She remained unflinching in her resolve, something Gemma noted the Auditore were quite famous for. "I guess we have to prove him wrong."

"That won't be too hard," Gemma agreed with a slight shrug. "I'm always right in arguments with him."

Both women laughed just a bit, despite the dark mood of the situation. Claudia straightened up and looked ahead to two villagers. "_You_! Fetch us horses!"

"I hope you two don't think you're going to Roma by yourselves," Maria interjected, raising an eyebrow. "I love my son, but … ever since our lives changed … he has been convinced that the only possible way he could get things done is on his own. We must change this mentality."

And so an agreement was made, and their destination changed from Firenze to Roma.


	2. Animale

**Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with anything relating to Assassin's Creed nor Ubisoft. I'm just an obsessed fan with a keyboard and stories in her head. **

The Confessor

Chapter II: Animale

They took an alternate route to Roma as to not run into Ezio. She'd managed to steal a few scattered florins from the wealthy people around them so Maria and Claudia wouldn't starve, and they acquired some water at a nearby aqueduct. People gave them weird looks – specifically Gemma – for being so underdressed and ragged, but she paid them no mind. Petty, shallow people were everywhere. For a moment, Gemma was at a loss at what to do from there – she considered stealing more money to get enough for an inn, but Maria seemed to be against constant thievery.

"People need that money, too," she said at one point. And she hadn't spoken much at all during the entire trip. "We have enough to sustain ourselves for a few days – consider the situation of others."

"_We_ are in a tight situation, Maria," Gemma argued politely. "I know you're not used to this, but we can't starve." She considered Drago's sister, but judging the way she disappeared … it would definitely be awkward. Especially if they were still there – which she highly doubted. She could never face the three of them again, nonetheless. They probably hated her – especially Drago. Lying to them by promising them they would return to their old lives back in San Gimignano, simply to get the supplies she needed to hunt down the Apple … she would hate herself, too.

She pushed such thoughts out of her mind and focused on the problem at hand. She had no intention of endangering Ezio's family more than what was required.

"More unexpected guests at Roma?" she turned with eyebrows raised at that voice, making eye contact with the stern, analytical face of Niccolò Machiavelli. "How interesting."

"_Salve_, _Ser_ Machiavelli," Gemma said, "we were not properly introduced, but–"

"I do not forget a face," Machiavelli replied, cutting her off. "You are Gemma. Ezio has spoken of you more than once. Perhaps more than what is considered healthy."

His blunt, straight-to-the-point manner of speaking was oddly refreshing. "Then you know why we are here, then."

He nodded once. "Naturally. That does not necessarily mean I agree with it." He gestured for them to follow him with a single bend of his finger and began to stride forward with his arms folded neatly behind his back.

"I am not here to debate the–!" she began to argue, so sick of the same argument again and again.

"I have no intention to debate a useless cause," he interjected with a casual wave of his hand. "You are here, and that is currently what matters. My question is – what do you intend to do to help our cause, now that you are here?"

_This man does not spare a single moment_, she thought, impressed. "Give Maria and Claudia proper lodging, and I will do whatever you deem fit."

"Where is my son?" Maria asked, a hardened, immovable look on her otherwise gentle face.

"He is taking care of some business, but I can imagine you would be able to find him at the _Rosa in Fiore_ – a brothel not too far from here." Gemma had absolutely no intention to go see or speak to Ezio at that point, still seething from his lack of any kind of faith in her abilities. They'd known each other for God knows how long, and yet she was still nothing but an expensive, fragile doll to him.

Claudia sighed. "Of course he is at a brothel."

"Actually, his motivation there is not for pleasure. He is negotiating with the madam on … sensitive matters." And with that, he let the topic drop to the floor with little consideration. It was smart of him to do so, because Gemma was unaware that a scowl was forming on her mouth.

She had another question, nonetheless. "Since I am here, I would like to know what I can do to aid the cause."

"We can discuss such things when we get to a safer place, and when you are decently dressed." He glanced backward, raising an eyebrow in a noticeable look that was measuring her sanity. She rolled her eyes, but decided to refrain from replying to that comment. She knew she looked ridiculous. She didn't exactly have a choice at the time to dress to impress.

* * *

><p>Machiavelli had taken her to a place he called the <em>Isola Tiberina,<em> the main headquarters of the Assassin Bureau in Roma. It was a ridiculously regal looking place for a hideout. Adorned with polished stone and white pillars, she wondered who Machiavelli bribed – or killed – to obtain it.

"I have a bath prepared for you in a separate apartment," he informed her.

Her eyebrow rose. "You anticipated my arrival?"

"Considering what Ezio has told me about you, I made some educated guesses. It seems I was not wrong in assuming that going to Firenze was the last thing on your mind."She couldn't help but smirk at him.

"You are a smart man."

"So I've been told." And with that, she walked off to her new accommodations. She stepped into a small, yet cozy room with a double bed and a single wardrobe. There was a window that overlooked the Tiber River, blocked by somewhat dull brown curtains. But she was never one for the decorative and flamboyant, so she couldn't care less.

And off of the side of the room was a tub with hot steam rolling out of it, and it called to her like a chorus of angels. She shed her filthy clothes and practically leapt into the bathtub, sighing in absolute ecstasy as she became immersed in the warm water. God, how she needed this.

There was a quiet knock on the door. "Gemma, we are going to seek Ezio out. Would you like to come with us?" Maria always had such a way of speaking that managed to calm anyone near her. She envied such an ability.

She also had no intention of seeing him just yet. "I need some time to think, Maria. Take Claudia and go."

There was a slight pause. "He will be disappointed."

"He can be as disappointed as he likes."

"_Come vuoi_," Maria replied with a sigh, and her soft footsteps faded as they descended the stairs. She needed some alone time or she felt she was going to scream.

* * *

><p>On his way back to the <em>Rosa in Fiore<em>, Ezio's mood was a rather somber one. The slave traders who'd killed the mistress of the brothel certainly made things more complicated for him than they should have been. Everything piling on his shoulders was enough to make him want to punch a hole through a wall. What truly angered him was that he was not even given a full twenty-four hours of peace before it all went to Hell. He was _hopeful_, for once in his life, he was actually looking forward to the future and the happiness he felt he earned—a new beginning.

And a wife to live through it with him. He'd actually been trying to keep his mind off Gemma since he arrived in Roma. When she popped up in his head, it was difficult to switch to another topic. He worried about her when she was out of sight. Feared the kind of trouble she'd inevitably get herself into. He _knew_ she was capable, but that didn't stop him from worrying.

Absently, he began to think about the brightness of her green eyes, and the soft curve of her nose, the structure of which suggested Sicilian heritage. He thought of her smooth olive skin and the thick, yet gentle texture of her dark brown hair. He thought of the way the corners of her eyes would scrunch up when she laughed. Sometimes, he'd make her laugh specifically to watch it happen. He thought of the curves on her body, the way they fit his hands so perfectly, as if she was specifically created to be touched by him and him alone.

It took him half a second to realize he'd almost walked straight into a cart of hay. He cursed to himself as people around him laughed quietly at his momentary idiocy. _Get it together, Ezio_, he told himself. His wife was in Firenze. Safe from the horrors of Roma. And he preferred it that way.

He knocked on the door to the brothel. No answer. He tried again. Still nothing. With an impatient scowl, he circled the building and paused to hear lilting laughter. His eyebrow rose. It almost sounded like Claudia's. His curiosity piqued, he scaled the side of the back of the building and pulled himself up onto the balcony.

To say Ezio was surprised when he saw his mother and sister discussing things with three courtesans would be a slight understatement. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things – they were supposed to be in Firenze. He also noticed something extraordinarily crucial. Gemma was nowhere to be seen. His mind began jumping to horrible, pessimistic conclusions.

"Mother? Sister?" he said, confused and getting tenser by the second from his wife's absence.

"Ezio," his mother sighed with relief. "_Ser_ Machiavelli said that you might be here."

"What are you doing in Roma?" he demanded. "Has Firenze been attacked?" He greatly feared the answer to that question.

"No," Claudia replied. "Or rather, I do not know. We did not go to Firenze."

"Why?" Ezio knew the answer to that question before it left his mouth. Gemma. Of course she didn't listen.

"Ezio, we want to help," said Claudia, her eyebrows furrowing together.

"I was trying to help _you_ by sending you to Firenze," he explained.

"Where is Madonna Solari?" one of the women interjected.

Ezio paused. That certain failure made him frown a bit. "She's dead."

"_Merda_."

"What now?"

"Will we have to close?"

"You cannot close!" Ezio said. It would defeat the purpose of everything. "I need your help."

"_Messere_, without someone who can run things, we are finished," the courtesan informed him with a matter-of-fact scowl. She didn't seem to care much at all about the death of her former mistress.

"I'll do it." Ezio whirled to see Claudia staring at him with a bold, confident look on her face.

The thought of her running a brothel didn't sit well with him. "You do not belong here, Claudia."

"I know how to run a business," she said with a sharp hiss in her tone, crossing her arms across her chest. He could see pure defiance in her eyes. "I ran Uncle Mario's for years!"

"This is different," he insisted. He didn't want his sister to see the kind of people who frequented brothels. It was a place for men to shed their everyday masks, and the lecherous beasts hidden underneath were never a pretty sight for anyone to behold.

His mother finally interfered. "What alternative do you have, Ezio?"

He scowled fiercely. She was right. "You do this, Claudia, and you are on your own."

"I've been on my own for twenty years," she replied in a tone that could have frozen him to the spot.

There wasn't much he could reply to that. "Fine." He kicked aside a stray piece of wood lying on the ground. "I intend to repair the brothel – this place is a real mess. And I want your courtesans to find Caterina Sforza." His mood was getting more sour through each passing minute. He felt so horribly responsible for her kidnap, and it was eating away at him every day he didn't know her location. Caterina was one of the strongest people he knew, but everyone has a breaking point.

They'd found Gemma's, after all.

"You can count on us," she replied evenly.

He got back to business. "Mother, where is Gemma?"

"Fear not, Ezio," she replied, lifting a small weight off of his shoulders. "She is at the _Isola Tiberina_."

"Why did she not come with you both?" he asked. It actually somewhat annoyed him. What had he done _this_ time? For God's sake, he had not even returned to Monteriggioni for a full twenty four hours. He had no _time_ to anger her.

"She was very tired from the journey here, Ezio," Claudia explained tersely. "She needs some time to herself."

"Hm," he grunted, turning on his heel.

"If it wasn't for her, I doubt we would have made it here in one piece," Claudia added for good measure. "She is an amazing woman, Ezio. Stop underestimating her."

He didn't reply. He knew just how capable Gemma was. And he knew that she knew, as well. What he feared is that she would get carried away. As always.

* * *

><p>Machiavelli had left a simple dark blue dress in the dresser, along with a clean chemise to replace her old tattered one. He really had anticipated her arrival. Silently, she exited the apartment and descended into the main room of the <em>Isola Tiberina<em> to see Machiavelli engrossed in studying a bookshelf.

"I am not offering you this shelter out of kindness or loyalty to Ezio," he explained bluntly, not even bothering to look backward, his hands tied neatly behind his back.

"I am not so foolish to assume such an innocent thing," she informed him. After a few moments, he turned to face her, his dark eyes boring into her own in a merciless, business-like manner.

"Your time as Il Lupo of San Gimignano has not gone unnoticed to me, Gemma," said Machiavelli. "You know how to blend into the shadows like a true phantom. You may not have your fabled 'pack' anymore, but I can safely estimate you'll be fine by yourself."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "What are you getting at?"

"I would like you to be my spy," he said in full seriousness.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You know Ezio's take on such a proposal, and yet you–?"

"I am asking _you_ to be my spy, not him." She couldn't help but smirk as he continued. "You go directly against the rules and regulations of society. I would be a fool not to take advantage of that."

"What would being a spy entail?" she inquired curiously.

"The acquiring of delicate information, espionage, the killing of those who stand in the way of the Order," Machiavelli replied as if it was obvious. "I firmly believe you will prove useful."

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the door to the headquarters opened and in Ezio stepped. He was wearing a bizarre new white outfit. It suited him _a lot_ – more than she would care to admit – and she bit her lip quietly to herself as he strolled forward. The philosopher gave her a look that clearly stated: _think about it_

He nodded to Machiavelli and immediately turned to her. "If you'll excuse us, Machiavelli."

"By all means," he replied, waving them both away with a simple gesture. Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her off to a secluded section of the area. There was something in her head that told her not to tell Ezio about Machiavelli's proposal.

He would raise hell and try to forbid it, she would argue to no avail, she would go ahead and agree to Machiavelli's offer and the both of them wouldn't be on speaking terms for God knows how long. Because it always happened like that. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, after all.

She hadn't forgotten their little exchange before he foolishly rode off to Roma. She stood a safe distance away from him. She knew the man, and when he tried to apologize, his hands began wandering whenever possible to seal the deal.

"I cannot say I am surprised you came here," he said, sighing heavily.

"Then you know me better than I thought," she replied evenly.

He frowned slightly. "I prefer having you nearby, anyway. You'd probably get into ridiculous amounts of trouble in Firenze."

She shrugged. "Most likely."

He shook his head and took a few steps forward. "You seem … angry with me."

"Oh, really?" She hoped her sarcasm was as clear as day. "Whatever gave you such an idea?"

"You don't need to act like this," Ezio replied. "I know I wasn't being fair."

"You could have died," she murmured. "Ever consider that? Shot in two places, injured and irrational—_you could have easily dropped dead and died_."

"Gemma," he whispered, taking another step and slowly grabbing her hand.

"We've been over this _again and again_, Ezio," she insisted softly. "You need to trust me. I want you to believe in me, and know that I'm not going anywhere."

He leaned over to her ear. "Can we continue this … elsewhere?"

"_I am in no mood for_–!" she began to insist before he laughed and silenced her.

"That's not what I meant," he corrected her with a coy smirk. "I just meant that I'd rather be somewhere where I can be completely open. Besides, Machiavelli has keen ears."

She agreed. "Alright, then." She led him to her makeshift apartment above the headquarters. He sauntered in as she quietly clicked the door shut behind them. She hated that she had to lie to him, but she saw no other option.

"You are right," he began as she opened her mouth to begin the inevitable argument, effectively surprising her into silence. "As usual … you are right, _amore_."

"Yes, I am," she replied with uncertainty. Why was he being so compliant all of a sudden?

He sat down on the edge of the bed and wordlessly patted the spot beside him. She wandered over and sat next to him. He seemed off. She placed her hand against his face and turned it, frowning slightly as she saw the exhaustion painted all over.

"What have you been doing to yourself, you stupid man?" she whispered, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Only my duty," he murmured back, closing his eyes and leaning against her touch.

"Your duty must be done in moderation," Gemma said. "You are not invincible, Ezio. You are human, just like me. You need to stop pushing yourself to such unhealthy limits."

He sighed. "I cannot simply stop when I get tired, _cara_. I have more enemies than I care to keep track of."

"The amount means nothing," she insisted. "Especially if you are wounded and tired. Then, all it takes is one."

"Do not underestimate me," he warned her in a soft voice. She rolled her eyes.

"I am telling you not to be stupid, Ezio," she countered, slowly pushing him down on the mattress and resting her head on his chest. "If not for yourself, then … do it for me. Remember you have someone who needs you alive."

He stroked the top of her head. They sat in silence for a long while. "When I arrived in Roma … I met a man who had lost his wife to the rope. She was hanging right in front of us. She was innocent, he said. She was a beautiful woman. I wondered, then … what would I do if that was you?"

She frowned. She hated it when he talked like that. "Ezio, don't–"

"I attempted to look ahead, you see," he murmured, ignoring her interjection, "but something occurred to me. I saw nothing. Blackness. You have become so important to me that I cannot even see the future without you by my side."

Her hand tightened around the fabric on his chest. "Do you understand why I'm nagging you, then?"

He chuckled. "Yes. I will be mindful of myself, _cara_. I promise."

"Good." She sighed, settling against him. "I … spoke to him. Mario. Before he …"

There was a grim pause. "Yes?"

"He loved you, Ezio," she informed him, lifting her head to stare at his beautiful face. "You were the son he never had the chance to have."

He closed his eyes. "I see."

She sat up and straddled him, placing her hands on either side of his face. "I swore to him I'd take care of you. And I will. Even if it costs me my life."

A smile stretched across his lips. A genuine, bright smile. It was such a rarity for him that her heart froze in her chest. "Ah, Gemma." He sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her chest.

Her arms slinked around him as the two of them molded themselves to each other. Even in this near perfect moment, there was a voice in the back of her head that reminded her that she would be blatantly lying to him for an indefinite amount of time. She told herself that it was for his own good.

What he did not know would not hurt him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: School's out for the summer! _God_, I'm so relieved, you don't even know. Now I can focus on writing. Be it this story or some of my originals. I'm also hatching an Altair/Maria idea as of late, but I won't reveal the details for that one until a bit later down the road. ;D As for this story, well, I'm thinking about making one for Assassin's Creed: Revelations and I even have some little plot bunnies for that. But of course, it's early in the story and I'll just have to set that aside for later. **

_**Translations**_**:**

_**Salve:**_** Hello**

_**Come vuoi**_**: As you wish**

_**Merda**_**: Shit**

_**Messere**_**: Sir/Mister**


	3. Un Sacco di Menzogne

The Confessor

Chapter III: Un Sacco di Menzogne

It was early morning when she was woken up by his mumbling. She lifted her head from its comfortable position on his chest, her eyebrows knitting in worry as the inarticulate noises became stuttered, coherent speech. Soon, his twitches morphed into full thrashes. She followed the first instinct that popped into her head and tried shaking him awake, but that turned out to be a grave mistake.

She found herself knocked clean off the bed with a sharp shout, splayed on the floor with a split bottom lip, staring in wide-eyed shock as the stranger above her gained recognition in his eyes. Awareness and realization quickly followed, and Ezio gasped and fled the room in holy terror. Gemma couldn't follow because she'd landed on her ankle and blood was slowly trailing down her chin. It was a wake up call like this that she hadn't expected.

Right then, she was forced to confront the ugly truth that inside her gentle, loving husband was the dangerous man the rest of the world feared. And what had truly frightened her wasn't the glimpse of the violence that he was _very_ capable of, but had never shown – but the demons that were haunting his dreams nightly. The nightmares were no new event; he'd sometimes wake up screaming, or just cling onto her a bit tighter than usual. Unconsciously, she fingered the faded scar that trailed from the bottom of her jaw to the tip of her collarbone. From what felt like eons ago, it was made by his hidden blade, during a nightmare a bit like this one.

She was only sixteen. Gods, how time had flown since then.

She stood to her feet, disregarding the slight sting of her ankle. Gemma wasn't sure whether or not to go after him, her eyes casting themselves to the floor as she considered it.

"I see you two are getting along." She looked to see Machiavelli standing at the doorway, his eyebrow raised in morbid curiosity. "Did he strike you?"

"Yes, but not on purpose," she whispered, still a bit shaken up. "He … had a nightmare." He strode forward and handed her a small white cloth to wipe the blood from her face. She did so without a word, as the shock hadn't entirely faded yet. She soon felt what seemed like a bruise forming on the side of her chin. "Where has he gone?"

"I haven't the slightest clue, but I wouldn't expect him back anytime soon," he replied with what sounded like indifference. "However, have you given thought to my proposal?"

This man didn't waste a second, did he? "Yes, I've decided I'll do it."

Machiavelli cracked the faintest hint of a smile. "Good. You can get started immediately. I have prepared some weapons downstairs for you to use, and you obviously cannot do my work in dresses, so I've also prepared suitable attire for you." From behind his back, where he usually folded his hands, he pulled a simple black cloak.

She was half-expecting an outfit similar to Ezio's. "A cloak?"

"I believe that instead of a characteristic outfit, you should wear disguises according to where you are going," he explained as if it should have been plainly obvious from the start. "It will make you much harder to track down, should you get yourself into trouble. But this will help you blend in to the night time."

"I see," she replied.

"Do not wear it out in the daylight," he warned her. "You will be easy to pick out in a crowd that way."

"But people can see me," she argued, crossing her arms across her chest.

"One of the tenants of your husband's creed is to hide in plain sight," he stated, putting his arms back where they usually rested behind his back. "The enemy will expect you to be wearing a noticeable outfit. The garb of the Assassin's Bureau, more than likely. But you are not an Assassin, and you must use that to your advantage."

She was too exhausted to push the matter any further. "_Va bene_, what is my first task?"

He gestured her to the door. "Right this way." He led her down to the main room of the headquarters and pointed to a nearby table where there was a sword, a dagger, and a small vial of poison.

"Today, your task is a bit simple. I want you to get information on and identify one of Cesare Borgia's henchmen. I am suspicious as to whether or not he is a man known as Donato Mancini. A skilled horseman. I'm sure you'd be able to find him if you asked around."

"And what exactly … do you want me to do?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Whatever you deem fit to get me my information," he said with a blithe shrug. Though by the way he was looking at her, she could fully understand what he was implying. She wasn't sure she liked using such methods, but before she could protest, he was already walking away, off to do whatever Niccoló Machiavelli did in his spare time.

She sighed to herself and went back up to her armoire to see what exactly would be suitable for such a mission. She picked up an elegant, dark green summer dress, slipping it on over her head. She noticed that it had a generous neckline that showed off a considerable amount of cleavage. A suitable tool, considering the task at hand.

She strapped the dagger to her thigh, noting how strange it would be for a woman to be carrying a blade. She exited the bureau and set off to find herself a horse, because no one in their right mind would run throughout such a big city on foot. Gemma made her way to a stable and saw that it was entirely closed off due to Borgia influence. She scowled, and turned to leave, when she began to hear the beginnings of chaos.

People were screaming and running from some designated point, and she jumped back in astonishment when one of the tall towers overlooking Roma burst into violent flames. The Borgia flags hanging on the side of it burned up in the carnage, as well.

In the back of her mind, Gemma had a strong feeling as to who had done that.

She bit her lip and scurried off to hide behind a stone pillar, and surely enough, Ezio came striding forward and purchased the stable without a single word. There was a dark expression on his face. To those who did not know him, he would be a man that one would avoid at all costs. But the only urge she had was to soothe his troubles.

She couldn't do it then, however, because he would have too many questions. So she ended up watching from the shadows as he acquired a horse and rode off to do further business in the city. This was a close call that she did not want to repeat. As soon as the coast was clear, she scurried over to the stable and swung herself onto a dark brown horse, snapping the reins and riding off.

She began thinking as to where in Roma she would be able to get leads on this Donato Mancini. Deep in thought, she took a sharp inhale of surprise when she almost ran over a bearded man.

"_Mi dispiace_, _Messere_!" she called out, embarrassed.

He turned his face to reply and she was rendered speechless. "It is quite alri– _Gemma_?"

"Leonardo!" Faster than she thought it possible, she leapt off the horse and practically dove into the renowned artist's arms. Gemma couldn't contain her happiness in seeing the first friend she'd ever made. It had been so long. She almost thought he disappeared.

He let out a laugh and hugged her back, mimicking her ferocity. "Ah, my beautiful Gemma!"

"I've missed you so much," she murmured into his shoulder, her hands tightening around the cloth on his back. "You have no idea."

"And I you, my reckless little gem," he replied in the playful voice she remembered from when she was sixteen. They pulled back and she frowned just a bit at the noticeable bags under his eyes. He looked so exhausted, and he'd aged so much. She hated seeing him like this. He was one of her earliest happier memories, and she preferred seeing him as he used to be – youthful and filled to the brim with ideas, fluttering around his workshop like a butterfly.

He too frowned a bit, running his thumb over the bruise on her chin. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

She sighed. "It is a long story."

"We have time, then!" he exclaimed, gesturing her over to a nearby bench. They sat down and he demanded she tell him everything new in her life. She bit her lip, smiling a bit.

"Well, my name is no longer Gemma Rizza," she said, and watched as his eyes lit up in realization.

"_Dio mio – _Gemma _Auditore_, eh?" Leonardo grinned from ear to ear. "I can't believe it. You tamed the untamable. But how in God's name did you manage to get him to stand in a church?"

Gemma paused a moment and explained Ezio's reasoning behind not having a religious ceremony. Leonardo nodded in grave understanding, fully aware of both of their pasts with the church. "So … I would much rather be Gemma Auditore our way, you know?"

"I completely understand," Leonardo replied. "So tell me, what happened to you?"

It took her a moment to realize he meant the wounds on her face. "Ezio … had a nightmare early this morning. A very bad one. I do not know what it was about, but he lost control of himself and well … this is the result."

Leonardo frowned. "He has a dark past, I am not surprised it haunts him."

"He didn't say a word to me afterward," she murmured. "He ran out the door before I could talk to him. I'm a bit worried, Leonardo."

"It probably scared the Hellout of him," he suggested. "You know how he is. He likes to be in control of himself. And when he realized that his inner demons can render him capable of hurting the woman he loves? Well, that would be terrifying for any man."

Why was he so good at calming her down? "You always know the right thing to say, Leonardo."

He smiled. "It comes with age, I suppose."

Her mind snapped back to the task at hand. "Actually – I need to ask you a question. Do you know of one named Donato Mancini?"

He pursed his lips. "It sounds familiar. Does he have anything to do with the horse races they have in the _Circo Massimo_? I always see a brutish man winning …"

"That could be him!" Any kind of lead was fine with her. "When do they usually have such races?"

"Mid-afternoon, every other day, I suspect," he answered. "They had one yesterday, so your best bet is to visit it tomorrow. Why? What business do you have with such a man?"

If she could not trust Leonardo, then she could trust no one. "I … well, I have extensive skills in spying and whatnot so … I was put to work. Ezio does not know, and I wish to keep it that way."

He understood. "Ah, yes. He would try to forbid it, had you told him. He worries so much when it comes to the welfare of his loved ones. Why, I remember he would always nag me when you were out too long in Venezia!" Both of them shared a fond laugh at those old memories. She sometimes wished she could go back to the time when her guardian was Leonardo. It was so much easier.

"You must come back with me!" she insisted. "Ezio will be so happy to see you, he–!"

He shook his head. "I cannot be seen with you all, I am afraid. I will get too much Templar scrutiny."

"Why …?"

"They have commandeered my services. And by that I mean, they would have killed me, had I refused them. The Borgia are not a force one like me can turn away." He hung his head in shame, and she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"The Borgia plot to be the ruin of us all," she said. "So does this mean that I cannot come see you whenever I please?"

"Unfortunately, no," he replied. "Cesare has spoken of you once, Gemma. He knows perfectly well of your connection to Ezio and all of the Assassin's Bureau. If he hears word of us talking … well, it could be bad for the both of us."

Cesare. The mere mention of that name gave her a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. "So, what do I do? I don't want you to disappear again, Leonardo."

He chuckled, placing a hand against her face. "Such a face you are giving me! Of course I will not disappear, but we simply need to be discreet about our meetings, as if we are not meeting at all." He sat up off of the bench and began to sketch out a drawing from chalk he pulled out of one of his pockets. It was a hand, pointing. She cocked an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Whenever you see a marking like this, know that I am not far away," he explained, winking. It was so easy to be light-hearted around Leonardo. He always seemed to be walking on air, as if nothing in the world could harm his positive spirits. "Do not fret, Gemma. Everything is going to be fine. But do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"Find Ezio and sort things out with him," he asked. "I fear he is very troubled right now – and that would not be good for one with such responsibilities on his shoulders."

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "_Ma certo_."

"You hold the key to an extremely intricate part of him," he reminded her, as if stating a fact. "Never forgot your influence, _intesi_?"

"I know all of this, Leonardo," she remarked. Although she did enjoy hearing it.

He laughed, shaking his head. "What I mean by that is, take care of yourself. I know I cannot stop you from undertaking these dangerous projects, but please, don't be _too_ reckless about it. You're a smart woman. Use it to your advantage, yes?"

She threw her arms around his waist and gave him a big squeeze. "What would I do without you, Leonardo?"

"Your life would have been much duller," he replied almost instantly, an impish glint in his smile.

* * *

><p>She decided to inform Machiavelli of the progress of her information first, so as to get that out of the way before she spoke with Ezio. She poked her head through the door of the Assassin's Bureau and saw him reading through a small book, his eyebrows knit in concentration.<p>

"Donato Mancini competes in horse races every other day at the _Circo Massimo_, so I will see to that tomorrow," she stated, getting to business.

He looked up from his book. "I see. Good work, then."

"Is that all you need from me today?" He nodded, getting back to the book. "Then I will take my leave." He waved her away, and she rolled her eyes. She exited the building and mounted her horse once more. Now, where might she find her elusive husband?

The thieves probably knew. She kicked the horse into high gear and began to search for a spot most of them gathered. Luckily for her, a small band of them were near an alleyway, playing some sort of dice game.

"_Mi scusi_," she said as she dismounted the animal, walking up to the lot of them. "But I am looking for someone, and I wonder if you boys can direct me to him."

"This would depend, _madonna_," one of them drawled, unsubtly dragging his eyes up her body. "We know all who walk this city, but there are just _so many people_, our memories need a bit of jogging." She tossed them a small bag of coins from her own bag, and they all shared a collective grin.

"That good?"

"Oh, yes. How may I help you this evening?"

"Where might I find one Ezio Auditore?" All of them shared a collective glance amongst themselves, as if they knew something she didn't.

"It is hard to pin a location on him," the thief murmured. "One moment, he is one place, and the next moment, he is gone."

She was quite aware of that. "Have you seen him today?"

"I have indeed, _madonna_, but you see, he is in a very bad mood today. Perhaps it would be better to take whatever business you have with him, and save it for tomorrow."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "I did not ask you for a suggestion, _messere._ I asked you _where_ have you seen him."

He snorted. "What are you to him, anyway? What is so urgent that you require that man's services now?"

"Is that any of your concern?" she replied, growing tired of this game he was playing. A low '_ooo__'_ rumbled around the small group of thieves.

He laughed, throwing his head back. "You have a mouth on you. I do not know if you've heard, _madonna_, but there is a rumor going around that Ezio Auditore is quite spoken for at the moment."

"And what makes you so certain I wish to see him for romantic reasons?" She was a _rumor_ now? How flattering.

"He is indeed a favorite amongst women, I have to admit. But from what I have heard, this one isn't just for fun. So sorry to disappoint you, my dear. But for the record …" he trailed off, flashing a sickening grin, "I am available, if you are feeling lonely."

She was curious. "What do you know of this woman of his?"

"Ezio keeps it secret," he replied with a wink. "But I can safely assume she's beautiful."

She smirked. "And the last time you saw him was …?"

"At _La Volpe Addorment__ata_, speaking with my master, La Volpe," he replied, finally giving her a straight answer. "But tell me, _bella_, what is your name? I am Lucenzo."

"My name is Gemma," she answered. "Gemma Auditore." And with that, she turned and mounted her horse. She enjoyed the surprised look on all of their faces as she rode off. Gemma didn't even have time to wonder where this establishment was, for no sooner than she was in motion, that another tower burst into flames.

People screamed and ran from the source, as usual, and she waited in calm silence atop the horse for him to come belting by. Like clock work, he came into view, completely unperturbed by the commotion around him. She waited until he noticed her. She smiled a bit when their eyes met. He turned to see a few guards still pursuing him.

He jogged forward and she scooted backward as he jumped atop the animal and spurred it to life. It let out a loud neigh, turned, and belted off in the opposite direction. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, her head resting against his back. The sound of his leveled breathing calmed her.

"I don't blame you at all, you know," she murmured, knowing he could hear her. He laid a hand over hers, but otherwise, was silent.

They got to _Isola Tiberina_ and he dismounted, his hands flying to her hips as he lifted her off of the animal. He turned and stalked up the stairs into their apartment. She frowned and followed.

"Ezio," she called as they both stepped into the apartment, "look at me."

"I have no right to–!"

"Do not give me that," she snapped, walking forward and putting both of his hands against either side of her face. "It's not your fault."

He scowled, running a thumb over the now-scarring cut on her lip. "I swore to protect you from harm. But I cannot even protect you from myself." He turned his back on her.

She exhaled and stormed forward, turning him around and pushing him with enough force to make him fall back onto the bed. She straddled him, leaning down so that their faces were separated by mere centimeters of air. "When I became your wife, I accepted everything about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I did not expect perfection. Do not try to be a perfect husband, or you will bore me."

He cracked a smile, running his fingertips across her cheek. "If I cannot control myself, then how am I to be good to you?"

"You _are_," she insisted, her patience wearing thin with his stubborn depression.

He shook his head. "You give me too much–!"

"If I thought you were an unfit husband," she hissed, bending down so that their lips brushed, "why the hell would I be sitting here right now? You know me. I don't stand for things like this anymore."

She held his gaze without hesitation, and he let out a heavy sigh, because he knew she was right. "I do not deserve you."

"You're right," she whispered, cocking a smirk. He laughed. "But fate wants us to be together, nonetheless. I'd rather not argue with it." He brought her face toward him and he kissed her, slow and passionate. Sly hands began to run up the bodice of her dress.

When they broke away, he gauged her for a moment. "The fact that you wore this dress in public is a bit worrying."

"Jealous, are we?"

He let out a low growl and in one swift movement, she was underneath him. "At one point, yes, I would have been. But it is okay, because people can look …" he trailed off for a moment, his hands tracing across the tops of her breasts, "but they cannot touch. I, however, can do both."

Before she realized what was going on, she heard a sharp hiss and all of a sudden, her back felt exposed. He tugged her now ruined dress off of her and tossed it without a second thought to the floor, ignoring her annoyance. His hidden blade went back into its place.

"That was a beautiful dress!" she exclaimed, attempting to maintain composure as he placed kiss after kiss on the warm skin of her neck.

"There are many more like it," he grunted, his hands tugging at the chemise now separating him from her naked body. He was such a big baby. Doing away with the dress that troubled him. Deciding to yell at him for that later, she began to work her way through the layers of his own clothing. She undid the tight knots of his red belt, and as it hit the ground, it let out a loud _clang_ due to the iron Assassin's insignia embedded on it.

She watched as he removed the rest, weapons and all, and in a blur of movement, the both of them met skin to skin. He kissed her long and hard on the mouth, hands feverishly touching everywhere.

Gemma gasped in a small voice as he began trailing kisses between the valley of her breasts, just below them, right above her belly button, and further south still. Wherever his lips brushed, it left a fire in its wake, burning under her skin, leaving her incoherent and clawing for relief.

Ezio paused as he parted her legs, meeting her eyes with his unnerving amber gaze. It was a strange thing, his eyes. In any normal circumstance, they were brown, a gentle shade of chocolate. But in the event of intense emotion of any kind? They shifted to vibrant, tawny amber that seemed to look into the depths of her very self.

A smile tugged on his lips as he placed soft, tantalizing kisses down the skin of her thigh before he stopped just short of her burning center. She could have sworn she heard an impish chuckle before her eyes widened in shock and her hands tightened in desperation on the sheets of the bed.

His wicked tongue drove her to the nearest points of insanity, and she whimpered and began to cry out through every stroke. She couldn't handle this kind of feeling, consuming her entire body, and she almost opened her mouth to beg him to stop, but her voice shriveled in her throat because she knew she _didn't_ want him to stop.

She knew he was enjoying listening to the sounds she made. She knew he loved that he was the only one who could make those sounds appear. Ezio was selfish by nature, and he managed to find all of her sweet spots to be able to make her yield to him, if only in moments like these.

Gemma couldn't take any more, and tumbled over that great cliff, her vision going white as she attempted regaining a sense of herself. When she floated back to the earth, he was watching her with a broad smirk.

"I will never tire of that face," he commented with a lazy, catlike smile on his face. She blushed red and looked away, but he wouldn't have any of that, forcing her to look at him with those eyes of his.

"_Bastardo_," she grumbled.

He laughed and pulled her in for another heart-stopping kiss, angling her face so he could get a better taste of her. Their breaths mixed into the air, mingling together in a sensuous combination. Slender fingers reached behind his head and untied the red ribbon that held his hair back, and she watched as his soft, smooth brown hair fell around his neck. She loved the feeling of knotting her fingers in it.

Their bodies were molded so close together, she confused the hammering of his heart for her own.

* * *

><p>She awoke the next morning and noted that the sensation of sleeping skin to skin with him would never away. She smiled to herself at his peaceful expression in deep sleep, tracing a gentle finger across his cheek. He looked exhausted, so she decided to just let him sleep.<p>

With an awkward yet skilled finesse, she wiggled out of his room in such a way to not move any part of him. She walked over to the window, carefully avoiding the deadly weapons thrown in laziness across the foot of the bed, and noted with alarm that it was mid-afternoon – the horse races should be commencing sometime around this hour.

With hasty silence, she dressed in the next best dress Machiavelli had gotten her, which was a blood red gown that had a golden thread woven in the rounded collar. It was amusing and a tad worrying to consider Machiavelli had such good taste in women's clothing. Perhaps intellectual types had more time on their hands than one would originally perceive.

She almost reached the door knob when a voice stopped her. "Where are you going?"

Gemma turned to see Ezio sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes with an irritated expression on his face. She sighed. "Claudia asked me to help her with some things."

"Can't it wait?" he whined, grumpy and annoyed his wife wasn't naked while he was.

She laughed. "No, Ezio. I have a commitment to Claudia, too."

"Your commitment to me is a bit stronger, don't you think?" he grumbled, standing to his feet and stretching his toned arms into the air.

She rolled her eyes. Such a child. "You can survive until tonight." He sauntered over to her, making it so she was backed up against the wall. He placed a hand against the wall, leaning in and effectively trapping her.

"The one time where I have most of the day off," he said, "and you have things to do." He was obviously implying that helping his sister was significantly less important than staying with him.

She wasn't about to spoil him more than he already was. "It seems so, yes."

He eyed her dress with a raised eyebrow. "Where did you get this? And the one from yesterday?"

She paused before answering. It would be strange to admit that Machiavelli had bought them for her. And suspicious. Those two didn't agree enough as it was, she feared adding fire to the flames over Ezio's spastic protective jealousy. "I found them in the market place, is that so wrong?"

"With what money?" he probed.

She shrugged, grinning with impish delight. "Once a thief, always a thief."

He chuckled, placing a butterfly kiss on the tip of her nose. "I remember a time when you hated the very _thought_ of a beautiful dress. Now you wear them like no one's business, making men jump from their seats and your husband a very, very grumpy man."

"My husband has always been a grumpy man," she remarked, tracing an absent finger in a circle on his chest. She snapped herself back to attention. "Who is also trying to stall me."

"Ah, you've caught me," he replied, smirking like a child caught where he shouldn't be. He leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. "I'll just stay here and sleep a bit longer … I fear I will need my strength for the days to come."

"Good," she said with a nod of approval. "You can handle it."

"I can only hope," he replied, worrying her. It lacked his usual arrogance about his limits and abilities. But she couldn't talk anymore. She touched her lips to his for a goodbye kiss, which he tried to escalate into something a bit further than that, arms wrapping around her frame and crushing her to him.

She pushed him away before it became too much, glaring at him through cheeks that began to color. "You're shameless."

He grinned. "I know."

And with that, she left the apartment, sighing to herself with an immense feeling of guilt in her chest. She hated lying to him. But there was no other alternative. Besides, this would help Ezio deal with fewer enemies than he already had on his plate. How can he begrudge her that?

With that delusion firmly in place in her mind, she went to a stable, mounted a horse and rode off into an uncertain, dangerous situation.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just to establish something quickly. I calculated it again and again in my mind – Ezio is 41 in 1500, when he first starts in Roma, and Gemma was 16 when she met him when he was 27, so that makes her 11 years younger than him, and 30 years old at the start of the story. Just to put that out there.**

**_Italian to English:_**

**_Va Bene_: Alright**

**_Mi dispiace_: I'm sorry**

**_Dio mio_: My God**

**_Bella: _Beautiful**

**_Madonna_: Madam/Miss**

**Messere_: _Mister/Sir**

**_Bastardo_: Bastard**

**_Intesi_?: Understand?**


	4. Vino

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed. Ubisoft has yet to answer my strongly worded letter about that. I'm sure they'll get back to me within the week. **

The Confessor

Chapter IV: Vino

Gemma had to let Claudia on board before she could do anything. If Ezio happened to ask about her 'help' in a casual manner one day, and his sister had no idea what he was talking about, that would give rise to some major issues. She dismounted the horse and walked into the _Rosa in Fiore_, green eyes scanning the velvet-decorated room for her sister-in-law.

"_Scusi_," she asked one of the girls – a pretty little thing, with wide, innocent brown eyes that surely helped her with her occupation. "Where might _Madonna_ Claudia be?"

The girl eyed her before answering. "She was upstairs on the balcony, last time I checked."

"_Grazie_," she replied, ignoring the overbearing stench of alcohol and various foreign perfumes assaulting her nose all at once. Gemma scaled the stairs, pausing for a moment at a mirror. She scowled at her reflection. The injuries she'd gotten from the previous night and strolled over to the balcony and found both Claudia and Maria discussing something, leaning against the wooden railing.

"Ah, Gemma! We were wondering when you would appear," Maria said, flashing her usual calming, maternal smile.

"_Salute_," she replied, walking over to the both of them. "How has business been doing?"

Claudia shrugged. "Better and better every day. My girls are renowned all across Roma."

Oh, the Auditores and their arrogance. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm sorry I haven't checked in, things have been happening rather fast."

"And have you been helping Machiavelli?" Gemma nodded. "And my brother knows of it?"

Gemma cracked a smile, shaking her head. "You know him. He would never agree to it without a massive argument. I just … didn't want to fight with him." She informed Claudia of her decision to pretend that she was helping her while out on her missions. She agreed.

Claudia laughed. "I understand that completely. He is so _stubborn_ – what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, you're helping him." There was something cold about Claudia's tone that did not sit well with Gemma. But then, her brother's treatment of her after all these years certainly called for it. She couldn't blame her for feeling so much resentment, after years of coddling and over-protection from a brother who was absent most of the time, anyway.

"Perhaps you should tell him," Maria suggested.

"_What_?" Claudia and Gemma demanded in unison.

She smiled, but there was such a sad glint in her eyes it didn't look right. "Marriage is about absolute truth, Gemma. You cannot keep such a secret from your husband. Giovanni and I knew _everything_ about each other, right down to the most miniscule detail. Trust and honesty is the only way you can prosper, my dear." The look in the woman's eyes was enough to tear Gemma's heart out. The death of her husband _and_ her two sons all at once … that must have been almost too much to bear.

She was right. They all knew that. But it wasn't so easy. "He will throw an unnecessary fit, Maria. Besides, I'll only keep it a secret for a little while. Just until he and I get situated."

"Gemma, do you forget that it is very easy for Ezio to find out _anything_ in this city?" Maria reminded her, as if she had overlooked an obvious fact. "If any of his associates see you wandering about, doing things that he is unaware of … believe me, he will not be happy about it."

"He hasn't established himself fully yet," Gemma insisted. "The Bureau is new and unorganized. Besides, most do not even know who I am, let alone will relay that back to Ezio."

The woman sighed. "If you say so."

"I love your son," Gemma said in a voice that was softer than she intended, and it gave her an odd fluttering feeling in her stomach to be declaring it aloud. "Believe me, I would do anything for him and I remain dedicated and loyal to him – but … he would not understand just yet. I want to ease into this. I want him to believe in my abilities as someone who can further his cause."

Maria placed a hand against Gemma's cheek. "I know your intentions are good." Despite this, there was still so much uncertainty in her eyes. "But I do not want you two basing your marriage off of lies and delusion. It can only end badly."

"I know," she replied with a sigh. "I will tell him in due time."

"Good," Maria said. It was hard to look that woman straight in the eye, because therein lied so much sincerity and _goodness_.

Some rare times, she could see the same look on Ezio's face.

* * *

><p>After being pointed in the right direction by one of Claudia's courtesans, she came upon the tournament being held at the <em>Circo Massimo<em>. It was a long, open field, and she could hear the dull roar of a small crowd, all gathered around the edges of the arena. Things seemed to be gettingmore rowdy as she came closer. Her curiosity piqued, she dismounted the horse and tied it to a nearby post. Gemma wove her way through the crowd and managed to find a spot behind the flimsy wall separating the spectators from the participants.

"There goes _Signor_ Mancini!" she heard one man gasp. "I hear that he is the best horseman in all of Roma." He seemed to be referring to an arrogant looking man atop a snorting black beast, a smug smirk on his square-chinned, narrow face as he wiped the floor with his unworthy opponents. His armor looked expensive. Either he'd earned that money from the races, or being a Templar was paying him quite well.

The crowd roared in delight as Mancini kicked a man that was riding next to him in the ribs, and the poor bastard went tumbling onto the ground, his arms flailing as his face met dirt. Her eyes widened in surprise. One would normally assume such a move would be illegal, but apparently not, in the case of Donato Mancini.

"Bah!" she heard some kind of voice in the audience scoff. "I am going to challenge this supposed Donato Mancini to a private duel. I have travelled all the way from Forlì in order to do so, and we shall see who the best is!"

A voice near him gasped. "But – But you cannot beat him. Even if you won the race, there is strong word that he kills all of his victorious opponents!"

Oh, really? She listened in more to see if they could tell her anything else, but they were cut off when the crowd erupted into loud, obnoxious cheering. Gemma sighed to herself, scanning the area in an absent fashion until she looked back at her horse and saw what looked like a thief walking toward it, his eyes fixated on it.

She sprung into action as quickly as she could, pushing her way through the mass amount of people. She was smart enough to not leave her bag on the animal, but that didn't mean she was going to let some novice steal her only suitable ride back.

"_Hey_!" she cried. "_Basta_, _pezzo di merda_! Unhand my horse!" The thief snapped his attention over to her, and she could see how _young_ he looked from where she was running. He scrambled onto the horse and snapped the reins in order to spur it to life. What he hadn't thought of, however, was untying it from the post. The horse snorted, jerking its head, almost as an indication to its rider that he was an idiot.

Gemma bit back a small laugh, her anger disappearing. She couldn't be mad at the type of thief she once was – and dealt with – for a portion of her life. The boy panicked and attempted to run away, but she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him to the ground.

He shielded his face with his arms. "P – Please! I'm sorry, please don't call the guards!"

"I won't call the guards, _ragazzo_," she replied, surprising him. "Get up."

Her kindness confused him, and as he stood to his feet, she could see he was a tall, lean and pale boy with dark brown hair and bright gray eyes. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. "_Perché_? I – I mean, I am grateful, but such a service is uncommon to the people of this city. Especially to one like me."

"I am familiar with people like you," Gemma answered with a shrug. "But … you are going to have to be cleverer next time. Untying my horse from the post, for one, would have been a smart idea."

He blushed red and looked down in shame. She found it oddly adorable. "I was in a hurry … and when I saw you running, I panicked."

"I noticed," she quipped, crossing her arms across her chest. "Panic only leads to needless mistakes. You must work _with_ pressure or you will never prosper in this occupation."

"_Scusi_, but … how do you know about such things?"

She smirked. "Does it confuse you because I am a woman?"

He shook his head in embarrassed vigor. "No, no – you just look to be wealthy and the type to be sheltered by their husbands." His eyes were darting between the cut on her lip and the noticeable bruise on her chin.

She chuckled. "Well, my husband tried to shelter me in the beginning, but he is a very … different man from the rest, and has accepted that I need my freedom."

"Who is your husband?" he asked. "I know of all the elite in Roma. And none come to mind that would so freely allow his wife to attend horse races without him." Technically, he had no idea she was even here.

She toyed with telling the boy, but she realized something. He had no idea that she was attending these events without Ezio's knowledge, and if she revealed herself as his wife, it would attract some unwanted attention. And what if this boy blabbed to Ezio where she had been? It would give her a lot of trouble she didn't need.

"That would be a story for another time," she said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the race." She turned on her heel and walked back into the crowd, wondering if the boy would be cheeky enough to try and steal it again.

* * *

><p>Ezio settled in his chair as he played an innocent card game with one of La Volpe's newest thieves. According to Volpe, he'd joined the guild a month ago. He was a smart boy, and faster than most his age – he just lacked in physical prowess.<p>

"Alessandro," Volpe called, appearing out of nowhere as he often did, "whatever happened to that horse I fetched you to bring? The one you brought back was not the one I designated you to steal at the horse races."

The young thief's eyes widened. He did not expect to be caught. "I – I just thought that a horse was a horse and–!"

"Did you think you could fool me?" his master demanded, never raising his voice, keeping it at a moderately intimidating level.

Alessandro hung his head in defeat. "The owner of the horse caught me before I could steal it."

"Really? And did he call the guards?"

"It was a woman, _messere_," he replied. "And no, she didn't. She gave me advice for the next time. It was all very odd."

"Who was she?" Volpe prodded. Ezio was curious, as well.

Alessandro shook his head. "She did not say. All I could tell is that she was wealthy, and her husband is most likely an elite. She was beautiful. And kind." It was strange to consider, because all of the elite in Roma were likely Templars. And the thought of a Templar letting his wife frolic outside by herself was a befuddling concept.

The look on the boy's face made Ezio chuckle aloud. "Have you fallen in love with your mysterious benefactor, _ragazzo_?"

"Of course not, _Ser _Ezio," he replied, embarrassed. Ezio could tell right off the bat that this boy wasn't as natural with women as he was at that age. "But the wealthy aren't known for helping … _anyone_, really. So it was a surprise."

"Well, talk to her. Try to sweep her off her feet," Ezio advised with a bold wink. "If her husband is wealthy and elite, he probably does not treat her very well. In which case, I'm sure it wouldn't be _that_ hard."

"Actually … I saw injuries on her face. I can only assume where she got them." Gemma's face flashed in Ezio's mind and his teeth clenched. The result of his lack of self control was now imprinted on her face, taunting him. He swore to himself he'd never harm her, and even though she didn't blame him, it still ate at him.

La Volpe laughed, throwing his head back. "Ezio, I would appreciate if you did not give my recruits hopeless encouragement."

"Why not?" Ezio said with a broad smirk. "It cannot hurt to try. Besides, a little play in between work is good for the spirits."

"I'm sure your wife would love to hear you say that, Ezio," Volpe commented, mirroring Ezio's expression. His eyes narrowed at the thief master. He did not like to make Gemma's presence in his life _too_ out in the open, for safety purposes. Anyone could overhear.

"You're married, _Ser_ Ezio?" Alessandro asked, surprised.

He sighed. He was fortunate that the guild was rather empty that day. "Yes, I am."

"Who is she?"

It was not like he thought Alessandro was not a trustworthy person, he just seemed very loose-lipped. "She is from Firenze, like me."

"I would love to meet her!" he exclaimed, smiling. There was so much purity emulating off of this boy, Ezio began to wonder what in the world he was doing being part of a thieves' guild.

"Sometime soon," he replied, shrugging. He considered the thought of introducing Gemma to the guild. Her experience would prove useful to Volpe. But the thought of her being put in the center of the squabbles between Volpe's guild and the _Cento Occhi_ was unappealing, to say the least.

"So it's true, then?" Ezio turned to see a pack of three thieves staring at him from an opposite table. One of them, a loud man by the name of Lucenzo, had an odd look on his unfortunate face.

"Is what true?"

"You're married," he stated blankly. "I met your wife yesterday."

Ezio leaned back in his seat, his eyebrow raising. "Did you?"

"She was looking for you," he replied, and it made sense in Ezio's head, as she appeared before him after destroying another Borgia tower. "Quite a pretty little thing she is, Auditore. How I'd like to have a go at her." There was a low, dark chuckle amongst the men at his table. Ezio's hand tightened into a fist. This man didn't value his life much, did he?

"What is her name, _Ser_ Ezio?" Alessandro piped in, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

"Gemma," Lucenzo answered, smirking enough to reveal a missing front tooth. "It suits her, I should think. What with those eyes." It alarmed Ezio. What possessed her to tell these men her name?

"How did you come to know this?" Ezio inquired, deciding to make a note of it for later that night.

"Well, I thought she was just another of your play things," he explained, as if discussing a casual fact. "So I attempted to talk to her a bit, you know, see if I could negotiate some … friendly … events. I thought I was doing you a favor: taking her off of your hands, so to speak. And then I discovered that mouth on her. Cheeky woman, your wife. How in God's name do you shut her up?" Lucenzo and the rest of his little followers broke out into harsh, mocking laughter.

Ezio's jaw set in a hard line. Had he heard Gemma being spoken of in such a way in the past, Lucenzo would have had a blade buried in his throat at this point. But Ezio knew that an outburst would be exactly what this man wanted out of him. "My apologies that you can only ever find a woman's warmth in a courtesan's bed, Lucenzo."

He snorted. "Better a cheap whore than an expensive one."

"Does it anger you that a woman of my wife's standing would never give you a second glance?" he shot back, standing to his feet, never allowing the smirk to leave his face. He'd learned to control his temper, but it had taken a good deal of practice. "My wife has standards. And I met every one of those standards. You couldn't even meet the standards of a common servant."

Ezio glanced backward at Volpe, who was watching with keen, fascinated eyes. He was not going to stop the argument from taking a violent turn. Lucenzo knew of Ezio's reputation. And he knew that he might lose his life in the process of challenging him so openly. So it was fair game, as an implied agreement was being presented between the two of them.

Lucenzo's face split into a sickening, sardonic grin. "That is big talk coming from the great Assassin that allowed himself to be weakened by a mere woman."

"Quite a rumor," Ezio mused. "Would you like me to prove it wrong here, or perhaps we take it outside and not embarrass yourself as much?"

"Women are all the same in the end, _Assassino_," he remarked in a dry tone, ignoring Ezio's question as he downed a cup of wine. "They take what they want from you and slit your throat when you least expect it. You will learn this lesson soon enough. That woman of yours … it's always the pretty ones you need to watch out for. And you have the misfortune of finding one with a mouth."

"You insult me and my wife," Ezio deadpanned. "And then you attempt to give me advice on how to deal with her?"

He burped, shrugging. "I am only trying to look out for my fellow man."

"_Ser_ Ezio," Alessandro said cautiously, standing to his feet and placing a calming hand on the Assassin's shoulder. "He's not worth the effort."

"Coming from a pathetic little _ragazzo_ like you?" Lucenzo snapped, his lips curling back to reveal the grinding of his teeth. "I could wring your neck with the snap of a fi–!" The thief stopped mid-sentence due to the large knife suddenly buried deep in the skin of his throat, blood spurting onto his body as he tumbled over to the ground, dead.

Everyone tensed. Ezio hadn't thrown it.

Volpe walked over to his fallen underling and retrieved the blade from his throat in a calm fashion, wiping off the blood with a piece of cloth. "His big mouth was beginning to annoy me. And either way, I require full loyalty from the members of my guild, and he's been waning for months now. It was only a matter of time before I killed him."

The mood had become uncomfortable, so Ezio decided to excuse himself for the day. "I will see you tomorrow, Volpe."

"A pleasure as always, Ezio," Volpe replied. "You two – remove this oaf's body and dump it somewhere."

* * *

><p>Gemma decided to take care of the evening's business before returning back to the Isola Tiberina. The sun had set and she'd managed to gather enough information amongst the crowd at the horse races to figure out that Mancini often visited a local tavern after matches to drink and gamble. Coincidentally enough, the establishment's name was <em>Il Cavallo<em> _Pazzo_.

She gave him points for sticking to a specific theme.

Securing Machiavelli's black cloak over her, she made her way over to the tavern and slunk through the door as unnoticeable as possible. She sat at a table in front of him, watching as he conversed loud and proud with a colleague of his. He'd definitely been drinking, judging by his mood, but she gauged it wasn't enough to exploit him with just yet.

Gemma decided to wait and see how things panned out. There was nothing she could do that wouldn't attract unwanted attention, and that was not something she wanted on her back. It was too loud for her to be able to make out his conversation, which irritated her. She ordered a cup of wine, and as it was served to her, his eyes flitted forward and met hers. They were dark brown and had an exceeding arrogance about them.

When he smirked, she played along, looking away with a coy glance to her side. She brought the brim of the cup to her lips and made it look like she was terrible at hiding her feelings. Gemma applauded herself for being such a phenomenal actress.

She glanced back at Mancini's table to see that he was staring at her like she was a prized race horse he had to get his hands on. It made her sick just thinking about it. She raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side slightly before looking away again, pretending to have her mind focused on other things.

She stood to her feet and walked past his table at a slow, deliberate pace in the direction of the door. A hand as rough as sand paper latched onto her wrist.

"_Ma bella donna_," he said as she turned to face him. "You are surely not here all by yourself?"

"Indeed I am, _messere_," she replied, sliding her hand out of his grip. It made her skin crawl, and it was not a feeling she enjoyed. "May I ask what you want?"

"Are you not familiar with who I am?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "I have come here from Firenze."

"Such a long way from Firenze to Roma," he commented, his eyes dragging up her body without a single ounce of shame. "Do you not think it unwise for you to wander into strange places, unaccompanied by your husband?"

"That would require me to have a husband," she quipped back, regretting the feeling it left in the back of her throat to say it.

The smirk that flashed on his face was enough to warrant losing her supper. "That is strange, for such a beautiful woman to be unmarried."

She shrugged. "_É il destino_," she said.

"Fate works in mysterious ways," he mused. "Perhaps it was fate that brought you here tonight, with a specific purpose?" He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. This man was not the least bit subtle – it was comical to think about. It was going to be hard to play it like she was attracted to him, when it was quite the opposite. It wasn't like with Ezio. When she moved on from her burning hatred of him, there was a little something more about him that was hard to comprehend. He was hard to read, to predict and decipher. And before she could help herself, she'd fallen into some dangerous emotions.

This man was an open book. His arrogance and intentions were as clear as if they were being dictated to her himself.

"It is not the place of man to decipher fate's intentions," she remarked, running fingers through the bangs of her hair.

His smirk grew a bit. "Perhaps."

"It seems to be getting late," she murmured. "Until next time, then, _Ser_ Mancini." And with that, she turned on her heel and strolled over to the door, looking back only when she was about to exit. She made her way over to her horse just as another was dismounting beside her.

She glanced at the man for no particular reason as she swung herself onto the horse. Her hands froze on the reins of as she felt the man stare at her with an uncomfortable intensity. In the darkness, she could not make out much of his features.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked, and she tensed at the familiarity of his voice.

Gemma maintained her usual collected composure. "It is hard to make out your face so late at night, I am afraid."

"Indeed? Allow me to assist you." She was jerked off of the animal at a speed even she couldn't defend against and carried off to God knew where. She thrashed against her captor, struggling and attempting to put up as much of a fight as she could muster.

"Let me go or so help me God, I'll rip your arms off!"

"I'll hold you to that later." And he towed her off like a sack of potatoes, as he was too strong for her to overpower.

* * *

><p><strong>Italian to English translation:<strong>

**_Scusi_: Excuse me**

**_Grazie_: Thank you**

_**Basta**_**: Wait/Enough**

_**Ragazzo**_**: Boy**

_**É il destino**_**: It is fate/destiny – That is fate/destiny.**

_**Ma bella donna**_**: My beautiful lady.**

_**Il Cavallo Pazzo**_**: The Crazy Horse.**


	5. Amici

The Confessor

Chapter V: Amici

To say Gemma was angry at whoever had grabbed her was a gross understatement. When he finally released her, she registered herself to be in a small, dim house lit only by a few scattered candles around the room. But it was enough to see him.

He'd aged a considerable amount since they last saw each other. He wasn't a young, reckless teenager anymore. His honey eyes no longer contained the old youthful glint she was so fond of. His left cheek had a long, diagonal scar slashed across it. He looked like someone who had been to Hell and back. And there was a feeling she had that she was partly to blame for it.

"Hello, Remus." His facial expression never shifted. "Or … Gemma."

"Dario …" Her voice didn't manage to reach higher than a whisper. "What … are you doing in Roma?"

"Wasn't this the last place we saw each other?" he asked, although they both knew it wasn't a true question.

She bit her lip, casting her eyes to the floor. "What of Elario and Drago?" The thought of the both of them put a massive hole in her heart. Over the years, she attempted to suppress all the memories and the guilt of leaving them behind in such a way. Often telling herself that they were far better off without her.

"Well, after you left, Elario decided to leave to join his brother amongst the ranks of mercenaries," he explained, pausing for a moment. Elario hated outright battles, and he hated being in his brother's shadow. She always remembered hearing him talking about it. Why go into such a life? "And as for Drago … I have no idea. He disappeared the day after you did, and I have yet to see or hear of him since."

"Oh." Everything was coming back to her at that point. The guilt, confusion, and emptiness of the entire situation. Elario was off living a life doing something he despised, and Drago could have been dead for all anyone knew. All because of her. It was impossible to describe the feeling she had, eating her out from the inside.

"So I hear Ezio Auditore is stirring up some trouble in the city," he commented. "And since he is here, that must be why _you_ are here."

Ever the sharpest person she knew. "To make a long story short … yes."

"I will never understand what it is between you both," he remarked. "Against all odds, you cling to each other …"

"I told you to go be Il Lupo!" she cried, disregarding his last comment, a bit unsure as to why she was saying that. "God dammit – why didn't you obey that last order?"

His smile, devoid of life stretched across his face. "Do you think the guild would have taken us back? No one would ever obey me as Il Lupo, you know that." Her heart plunged into her stomach.

No, of course it wouldn't have. "Dario … at the time I …" The rest of that sentence was 'mentally distraught' but that wasn't fair to him. It sounded so selfish. But then, there was no way to not sound selfish. "Too much was going on for me to handle … rationally."

"I don't blame you for something that happened years ago, Gemma," he replied with what was a forced smile. "It's just nice to see you alive and … happy."

"And what about you?" she murmured, frowning.

"I'm getting there," he replied with a shrug. "Not exactly 'happy' but … somewhat on the way to being there."

She couldn't handle being there, being in his presence any longer. Had she not ran off like that so many years ago, the future would have been so much different. She needed to breathe and be able to collect her thoughts. "I … need to leave."

"I imagine Ezio is worried," Dario said. "It's probably for the best anyway."

She walked out the door and didn't look back, because she doubted she would be able to handle the look on his face she knew was there.

* * *

><p>Ezio sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the candle on the table beside it. He'd been more anxious than usual after that incident at the guild, and Gemma had yet to return from Claudia's brothel. He had promised himself he wasn't going to mistrust her again and just let her come home on her own accord. She was with his sister, nothing could go wrong. And either way, if she saw that he was worrying less, she would reward him.<p>

He chuckled to himself at the mental imagery of a reward. Oh, the possibilities were endless.

He shook his head, focusing. Ezio lied down on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. He began to wonder what she would be doing for so long. _No, do not do that_, he scolded himself. He knew he would start being pessimistic.

She would return safe, sound and without a scratch on her.

* * *

><p>She heard the roar of thunder as she made her way to the stables. Much to her annoyance, her horse was gone. It probably strolled off, since she had been dragged off when it was untied from its post. With a sigh to herself, she set off for Tiber Island on foot.<p>

It started to rain as she began to walk, harder and harder after each passing moment. She was too weary of everything to pick up her pace, and never went faster than a brisk walk. After a few minutes, she was soaked to the bone, and she was beginning to wonder if her dress was ruined.

Machiavelli would be displeased. Ezio destroyed the first one, and now Gemma was responsible for the ruin of the second.

Lightning crackled above her, and thunder followed soon afterward, and she began to note the cold rain didn't match the warm moisture dripping down her face. She swallowed the lump in her throat and let out a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around herself.

She didn't realize her ankles were trembling until she slipped on the cobblestones and went sliding forward, her body dragging against the ground, the sound of a rip ringing in her ear. She forced herself back up to her feet, attempting to ignore what felt like a bruise stretched down her hip. Gemma looked down to realize there was a tear that stretched on the left side of her dress up from her leg to the middle of her thigh. She groaned to herself, but marched on.

She was foolish to believe she could hide from her past behind the thin happiness of finally being able to be with Ezio. He couldn't protect her from that. Not from the guilt inside of her that was beginning to form into a monster through each passing step that was capable of eating her alive.

She thought of Drago and Elario as she walked through the pouring rain. Both of them could have been dead, and it was her doing. Elario had no choice but to join his brother in an occupation that he hated, and Drago … he needed her there for him at that time, and she abandoned him. And now no one knew where he was.

Her shoulders began to shake from how hard she was crying, and her arms wrapped tighter around her soaked body. She felt pathetic and beaten down, but it felt so good to let out the pent up sea of emotion she had been hiding so well from everyone around her.

Everything was falling apart and she didn't know what to do. She had lived in her peaceful delusion that the three of them found better homes and friends when she left. It made sense, she had convinced herself. Now that the woman was gone, they could go back to San Gimignano like they'd always wanted. They could have made up some ridiculous story about how they had gone to kill her themselves for deceiving the guild. _Anything_ could have been better than this.

Remembering that entire fiasco forced her to think of Alessio. Her twisted, doomed old friend who she had no choice but to kill, for his own good. It was as if he was an old, sick dog that had nothing better to give the rest of the world. He claimed he loved her in his own bizarre little way. It was a melancholy concept she had refused to confront for years. But now it was right in front of her, unable to budge from her line of sight.

She had no idea where she was even going at that point. She was too wrapped up in her own loathsome existence to maneuver herself properly. It took her a moment to realize that she was freezing cold, and the wind beginning to howl past her was not helping that a single bit.

Violent shivers tore up her spine like the lashing of a whip. Her muscles had locked up in defense against the weather, her teeth chattering, her fingers numbing.

"_Madonna_!" She was not even given time to register the voice before she was yanked into another unknown room. Her tolerance level had shattered, and she reached down to the strap on her thigh where her dagger was held.

Gemma found it much easier to overpower whoever it was, and she had them pinned against the wall with the blade to their throat.

Her eyes began to let the fireplace in the room shine into her vision, and she was surprised to realize that the person she was restraining was no enemy. It was the thief boy from earlier. The look in his eyes was terrified – like a trapped mouse under the paw of a lioness. She retracted her blade, snapping it back into place. Her eyes scanned the room around her. She found it to be decorated with a decent amount of taste. It almost reminded her of Leonardo's old workshop, minus the clutter of unfinished inventions and blue prints.

"What the hell are you doing, _ragazzo_?" she demanded, her jaw clenching.

"_Mi dispiace_," he whispered. "I … I saw you out there in this weather and I did not think much about it."

"You should have!" she hissed, irritable and too exhausted to raise her voice. "Are you out of your mind? I could have killed you. If I didn't see you just then, by God, I would have killed you."

He lowered his eyes. "You helped me today. I was only trying to return the favor."

It was difficult to remain angry at someone with such visibly pure intentions. She sighed, turning toward the door. "I appreciate the thought, but it is not necessary. I do not wish to be repaid."

"But, nonetheless, I wish to repay you!" he argued, jumping in her way and stretching his arms out as far as they could go. "Stay here tonight – warm up by the fire."

Her eyebrows shot up at his boldness. "You seem to have forgotten that I have a husband."

His cheeks reddened. She almost had an urge to laugh. "N – No, I do not mean it like that! You will get sick if you stay out there any longer. At least get warm here until the storm subsides. It will relieve my conscience – please, _madonna_."

Ezio would go on a rampage if she didn't return, that much was certain. But she had no idea where she was going, and she could not ask this boy to guide her back to Tiber Island, because Ezio would see him and things would become troublesome.

There was no alternative. She would have to make up an elaborate story when facing Ezio tomorrow, because the storm was not going to let up anytime soon. "_Va bene_. But you will mention this to no one, do you understand?"

He nodded, enthusiasm beginning to appear on his face. "_Ma certo_! Please, sit by the fire and I will get you warm clothes." He scuttled off to a corner of his small home and she did as advised, sitting near the crackling flames and marveling in the heat. She ended up staring at the boy as he sifted through his wardrobe. She had not met such unparalleled kindness in a long time, and she could tell there was nothing off about him. He was just young and naïve.

Soon, he walked up and handed her a chemise and a pair of tan trousers. She stared at them for a moment before taking them. "_Grazie_."

He smiled. "Right … well, I shall cover my eyes, and you can change out of those wet clothes."

She eyed at him in skeptical disbelief. Kindness or not, he was still very much a man. "I have a feeling your hands might slip."

He pouted. "I suppose you are right. Here, I have another idea." And with that, he crawled onto his bed and immersed himself under the covers. "Now, you would see me if I move at all!"

It was too ridiculous for words. She stifled a small laugh, but began to peel off the soaked layers of clothing on her. She kept her eyes on the lump under the covers of the boy's bed, surprised to see that he wasn't peeking.

"You are, by far," she murmured, "the strangest boy I have ever met."

She heard him laugh from under the blankets. "I will take that as a compliment."

Gemma tossed her clothes off to the side, slipping the clean, dry chemise over her head, content to find that it fit her enough. He was taller, so it was baggy, but it would do. She pulled on the trousers, forgetting how nice it felt to be without the restriction of dresses. She tucked the shirt into her trousers and ran a hand through her hair, which was beginning to dry from the fire.

"Alright, you can come out now," she said as she sunk to her feet, tucking her legs against her chest. She decided to stare at the fire.

He poked his head out from under the blankets. "A bit big on you … but it will do for now."

"What is your name,_ ragazzo_?" she asked, deeming it appropriate, since she was wearing his clothes.

"Alessandro," he replied, taking a seat beside her. "What about you?"

It was still unsafe to tell him. "It's better that you do not know."

"Why?" he inquired.

"Trust me, it would benefit us both if you did not know my name," she explained, hoping he would heed this warning. Even if she swore him to secrecy, she knew he must have trusted La Volpe enough to tell him, and such a peculiar piece of information would relay back to Ezio within half a second.

He frowned, but nodded. "Well … okay." There was a long pause. "What were you doing out so late at night, alone, and in such weather?"

"I ran into some trouble on the way home," she replied, keeping her eyes fixated on the engulfing warmth of the fire.

"What happened to your horse?"

"The storm spooked it while I was busy with something." She pushed such a recollection out of her thoughts, shoving it under the surface for a later time.

"Oh," he muttered. "But … you were heading in the opposite direction. Had I not stopped you, you would have walked straight into the most dangerous district of Roma."

She let out a laugh at her own stupidity. "Is that right? Well, I suppose you've saved me twice all at once. Thank you for that."

He grinned. It almost blinded her. "_Nessun problema_. I would not want you to have an unfortunate run in with the _Ce__nto Occhi_."

"The … what?" Ezio had never told her about any such group. And he had been filling her in on everything these days.

"A rival faction of thieves," he informed her, his expression turning grim. "Unlike us, they mostly rob from the poor and sickly. One can usually find them in the poorest districts in town – and wherever there is Borgia influence. They are a horrible group of murderers. I do not want to think about what would have happened if you ran into them."

She shared the sentiment. In any normal situation, she could have taken them with ease, but in her current mental state, the chances of that depleted. "So I take it there is some rivalry between you and them."

He nodded. "But it is not a light-hearted one."

San Gimignano was a small city, so rivalry was usually amongst the individual thieves when she led the guild there. But in such a large place like Roma, she was not surprised.

Gemma soon found herself nodding off, and it did not go unnoticed. "You seem so exhausted. Here, please, use my bed."

"No, no, I am fine on the floor," she argued.

He shook his head. "Out of the question. I was not raised to stand by and deprive a woman of sleep. I am comfortable on the floor." Her eyes snapped to his face. Ezio had said that before she was comfortable sleeping in the same bed as him.

She cracked a smile. "Stubborn _ragazzo_."

Gemma made her way over to the bed and laid herself down. She allowed the rain outside to lull her to sleep, although it felt strange not being in his arms, having become so accustomed to it after all this time.

She hoped Ezio either hadn't noticed her absence yet, or he would decide to wait until morning. This was a precarious situation she had found herself in.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I literally can't wait for November. I'm like, bouncing up and down. I've already pre-ordered Revelations and I have the poster and everything because I'm a massive dork. Oh, and I would really appreciate reviews on such on this because I want to know what you guys think! Your opinions are one of the most important things to me. :)**

_**Italian to English:**_

_**Mi dispiace: **_**I'm sorry**

_**Ragazzo**_**: Boy**

_**Madonna**_**: My lady**

_**Ma certo**_**: Of course**

_**Nessun problema**_**: Not a problem. **


	6. Sospesa

The Confessor

Chapter VI: Sospesa

Gemma was awoken by a sharp wrapping at the door. She watched Alessandro yawn and stroll to the door, and she herself leapt to her feet, wobbling for a moment due to the dizzying head rush that ensued. She dashed over to a tall closet and hid herself there.

"_Maestro_!" Alessandro said. "What brings you here?"

"I apologize for waking you up earlier than usual, Alessandro," La Volpe said, "but it seems something urgent has occurred, and Ezio has requested that you help." Gemma acquired an intense urge to smash her head against the wood of the closet. Of _course_ Ezio knew Alessandro, she should have suspected such a horrible twist of fate. He didn't waste a single moment. It was both flattering and frustrating.

"O – Of course!" he exclaimed, always eager to help. "What has happened?"

"My wife has been gone since yesterday," Ezio's voice informed him, and she could hear the grimness in his tone. "I would appreciate it if you helped me look for her."

He seemed to go with it with his usual enthusiasm. "Absolutely, _Ser _Ezio. Just … wait a moment, I need to get my sword and everything." She could hear the creek of the door until it clicked shut. He dashed over to the closet. "Just wait until I leave with my master and his friend, alright? And then you can go back to your husband!"

He hadn't put two and two together, it seemed. It was perfectly fine with her. She didn't want to get him involved in the quarrel with Ezio. She already had enough explaining to do as it was, and he was just an innocent boy who'd helped her. "That sounds good. _Grazie_, Alessandro."

"How are you going to explain this to your husband?" he asked before he turned to leave, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

She had no idea. "I will improvise. Go, _ragazzo_."

He smiled, nodding and grabbing his things. He swung the door open once he was ready and poised to leave. "Do not worry, _Ser _Ezio, we will find your wife!" Following a few seconds of further banter, the door closed shut and she was alone. Gemma let out a long sigh of relief.

She did not have much time, and she preferred not to involve an innocent boy when she was inevitably scolded. She was hoping he had not tried to get the information from Claudia yet, but that was the next viable step. Gemma leapt out of the closet and stepped out of Alessandro's home and began to think, walking through the streets of Rome and ignoring the looks of confusion and astonishment that were beginning to point her way.

She decided that it was best to ask for Claudia's assistance, as she certainly could not coerce information out of a potential Templar dressed like a street child. Moving in the shadows, she made absolute certain not to cross Ezio's path all the way to the _Rosa in Fiore_, and as she opened the door, she took in the familiar stench of whore house.

"Gemma!" Claudia exclaimed, and before she knew it she was wrapped in the surprisingly strong embrace of her sister-in-law. "_Ragazza stupida_! Ezio is worried sick about you. I thought you were going to be subtle about this! I _will_ tell him what you have been up if it ends up hurting him as a result." She blinked, taken aback by how harsh Claudia was being, but she understood why. This was her brother. Had she any siblings, she would be the same way.

"I ran into some … problems … last night," she explained in a quiet, hushed voice, noticing the morbidly curious eyes of the courtesans. A squabble between Ezio and Gemma could earn one of them a night with their madam's handsome Assassin brother, after all.

Claudia scowled, unconvinced. "What kind of problems?" Exhaling with impatience, she grabbed her wrist and dragged her up the stairs and into a vacant room. Gemma clicked the door shut behind them as Ezio's little sister waited with arms across her chest and an expectant look.

She sighed. "I did not intend for it to end up the way it did. I got lost last night."

"Honestly, Gemma!" Claudia barked. "I am beginning to understand why Ezio is so … so … unbearably protective of you. You do not think things through!"

"Will you let me finish?" she hissed. And so the entire story came spilling out. It felt odd, as Ezio was the only one that knew about her past with the thieves of San Gimignano and everything else involved therein. She told Claudia about her "pack", about Dario, Elario and Drago and how they were the closest things to family she has ever had and everything leading up to where they were. How she had to make a decision. A selfish, selfish decision.

When she finished, Claudia's expression shifted from anger to somber understanding. "I see … how fortunate that boy helped you, then."

"Indeed," she replied. "I was too young to realize that I had made a big decision, the day I left them to hunt down that damned Apple. My life as a thief with loyal friends, or take a risk and chase after your brother."

"Everything did not turn out badly, though," she reminded her with a small smile. "I mean … you are where you want to be, right?"

"Oh, _ma certo_," she murmured with evident sarcasm, "having no choice but to lie all the time to Ezio because he is too stubborn to let me do anything other than sit at home and wait for him every day. And on top of it …" she buried her face in her hands, thinking about Dario's words.

Claudia placed a reassuring hand on the woman's back. "Hey, now, _calma_. We can sort this entire thing out."

"Sometimes I wonder if he realizes how much I've done for him," she whispered, her hands bunching around the cloth of her trousers.

"He very nearly burned down the brothel this morning," Claudia informed her in a matter-of-fact tone. "And it was _early_ in the morning, when clients are asleep, hung over and cranky. I almost ripped his head off but he didn't care because _you_ were the only thing he gave a single shit about."

She frowned. "I hoped he would give me enough time to sneak in before dawn …"

"Gemma," Claudia groaned. "Do you know what he asked me today? He asked me if you ever mentioned anything about running away. Anything at all. Even jokes."

Her eyes widened. "What … did you tell him?"

"I told him to stop being a pathetic _bastardo_ and realize you would never do that to him. I am glad that I am right." That certainly changed the perspective. What would make him think she would run?

"How could he get such an idea?" she whispered, although mostly to herself.

"You've ran in the past," Claudia pointed out to her, although kept her voice gentle and calm. "He was not in his right mind this morning, either way. Or … at all, really. He just needed a lead and I could not give him any. I told him that you were here and you left as the sun set over Roma."

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, snarling mangled curse words to herself as she realized she had single-handedly jeopardized her ability to go out without Ezio worrying too much. "Machiavelli will kill me …"

"Speaking of which," Claudia said, a bit more cheerful all of a sudden. "Your little friend Donato Mancini visited this place last night. When he was properly drunk, well, he managed to let slip a tiny piece of information that might interest you and Machiavelli. He mentioned Cesare. Not explicitly stating his relation to him, but it is enough to garner considerable suspicion, hm?"

Gemma nodded. "That brings things a bit closer. I swear I would have found out so much more already if I followed him and asked around instead of attempting to do it in a womanly way. That does not work for me."

Claudia snorted with laughter. "You are not very good at feminine espionage, then."

"No, no I am not," she grumbled. Their conversation was brought to a halt when they heard the sharp slamming of a door downstairs and distinct yelling of Claudia's name by a voice anyone could recognize. Gemma motioned to leave when Claudia stopped her, placing a hand on either of her shoulders.

"Gemma, you know I love you like a sister," she informed her, and she was more serious than she had ever seen the woman, "but my brother and his welfare comes first. I need you to put him above _anything_ Machiavelli asks you to do. I know you are not used to that, but you are going to have to be. If you think serving the Assassins in a mission he gives you will jeopardize your life, I want you to refuse it. If you hurt him like you did today ever again, I will tell him everything and I will not spare any details. _Capisco_?"

Her jaw hardened, but she nodded. They had been so cold to each other since the arrival in Roma, but the fierce, protective glare that was being directed at her was the exact opposite of this. Claudia instructed her to stay in the room, as she'd rather avoid anything dramatic in front of other clients and courtesans. She nodded again, sitting at the edge of the bed.

She sat consumed with a guilt festering in the pit of her stomach and creeping up into her brain. Mere moments later, the door swung open and clicked shut. Ezio loomed in the doorway, taking in the sight of her for a long time.

Without a word, he walked forward and tilted her chin up with two fingers of a gloved hand. "Am I killing anyone?"

"No," she whispered.

"Then explain," he deadpanned, although it sounded gentle enough.

"I got lost last night," she murmured. "The storm yesterday did not help, either."

"Why didn't you stay with Claudia?" he asked, and she could tell that he was controlling himself. Be it anger or something else, she could not tell. As he grew older, he grew more masterful at hiding his emotions. Even from her.

She shrugged. "I assumed you were waiting for me."

"I was," he acknowledged. "But I would have understood if you could not risk the journey to Tiber Island in such weather."

"Claudia said you almost burned down the brothel this morning," she pointed out in a quiet voice.

He paused. "What do you think any man's reaction would be if his wife was nowhere to be found, and hadn't been seen since the night before?"

"I did not plan it the way it happened," she explained with a shrug. "I could scarcely see my own two feet in front of me, last night …"

"Where did you get these clothes?" he inquired. "It is oddly nostalgic to see you dressed like this."

Lying to him left such a terrible taste in her mouth. "Stole them," she murmured, looking into his eyes with knit eyebrows. "_Mi dispiace_, Ezio. I didn't think you would be so … proactive about it." He sat next to her on the edge of the bed.

"I have more enemies than I do allies, _cara_," he informed her in a low, somber tone as he curled a strand of her hair around his finger. "And as much as I would like to hide you away from the outside world, it is not fair to you. They would do anything to get to me … and you are the easiest way how. They need only to misplace a hair on your head."

She felt a heavy sense of lethargy. "I can defend myself."

"_Lo so, _Gemma," he whispered, as if tired of hearing her say that. "But you do not truly know what it is that is in the real world."

"I lived and scraped to survive as a thief for over two years," she deadpanned, her voice taking a sharp, steely turn. "All – on – my – _own_."

In one swift movement, she was pinned down to the bed by her wrists. Ezio's hood had fallen down and he was staring into her with such a piercing, topaz gaze, she began to consider it as an alternate form of weapon. "Since the age of 17, after watching my father and brothers _hang_ for a crime that was not their own, being shunned from my home like a _monstro_, I had no choice but to embrace a fate I doubt I would have otherwise chosen. I was forced to become acquainted with the darkest depths of human vileness and hatred that would make the hair on your head curl."

He paused for a moment, trailing his fingers down the skin of her neck. "I protected you since the day I met you, Gemma. Carefully guarding you with my life. First for the secrets of mine you had, and then for you. I _envy_ you for the fact that you had only two years on your own. Because that is _niente_. In my first two years, all I could think about was the men who killed my father and brothers, and picturing their heads on pikes as I vigorously trained for something I did not know."

"I never underestimate what you went through," she said.

"But you overestimate what you did," he replied so bluntly, her eyes widened in shock. "You led a band of thieves, Gemma. In a small city in the middle of Tuscany, away from the vicious rats that infested Firenze, Venezia, and Roma."

"Are … are you saying I did not go through enough for you to consider _credible_?" she demanded.

He sighed. "No, but what I am saying is–!"

She shoved him off of her, standing to her feet. "_Bastardo_! _Everything_ I had to live with is because of you – you could never decide if you wanted me, so you confused me, staying away for months at a time in which I would hear _nothing_. You _killed_ my father. My mother killed _herself_ because you decided to kidnap her _muta_ daughter. Everything is because of you. _Everything_!"

"Do you regret it, then?" he barked. "_Dimmi_, Gemma! Do you regret it?"

"I never have," she snarled through clenched teeth. "But if you are going to be as arrogant as you were when we were young, then I might have to reconsider that. How _dare_ you suggest I am sheltered compared to you? I am more sheltered than you because _you_ sheltered me."

"It was for your own protection!" he snapped. "You were an innocent girl, I was only trying to–!"

"The minute you stole me away from Firenze," she seethed, cutting through his sentence like a sharpened blade, "is when my innocence disappeared, just like I did, from everything I knew, to be dragged into an unknown world that _you_ pushed me into. Whether you intended to or not, once I was in, I was never able to leave."

He sat up. "You had a choice the day you ran away from me in Monteriggioni. You could have gone _back_ to Firenze!"

"And do _what_?" she cried, laughing incredulously at the audacity of that statement, her voice shooting up an octave. "My family was dead. I was an orphan. It was either the _bordello_ or _convento_! You know this perfectly well, Ezio, so please shut your mouth."

"It was foolish to run in the first place," he roared, shooting to his feet. "I could have protected you _just_ fine, but no, you insisted on training like a man–!"

"_I had no choice_–!" she began to argue before he cut her off.

"_Si_, you did," he growled. "Becoming a thief was _your_ choice. Leaving my side was _your_ choice. _No one_ told you to run to San Gimignano and join a guild!"

She stepped forward, staring him down with a fearless wildfire of green flames burning in her eyes. "No, Ezio. It was either that or wait for you like a lost puppy for months at a time."

"I swear to God your pride will be the end of you," he snarled, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. "Why must you do _everything_ on your own? Why do you feel like if I – _your husband_ – want to protect you from harm, it is an insult?"

"There is a fine line between protecting and coddling," she hissed, shooting pure venom at him. "I am a gone for a mere few hours more than usual and you damn near _raze Roma to the ground_!"

His eyes narrowed, and he thinned the space between them and spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "You _know_ how worried this city makes me when it comes to–!"

"_I am not a child_!" she shrieked. "When will you understand that? _Quando_, Ezio?"

"You are but a child to my enemies," he said with chilling finality. "They can chew you up and spit you out."

Every muscle in her body was telling her to slap him, but she knew better than that, and turned on her heel, in the direction of the door. He was not having that, seizing her by the wrists and shouting that she wasn't going anywhere. "_Lasciami_!"

"No!" His grip on her wrist tightened. "You cannot keep running from your problems, Gemma!"

She did the first thing that came to her mind and bit down on the hand restraining her. He recoiled in shock. She faced him head on. "Do you think my life was easy? _That I did not suffer_?" In one swift movement, she threw off Alessandro's chemise and tossed it to the ground, showcasing the numerous scars spread all over her upper body.

Her nostrils were flared as she dared him to try and argue. "From my life as a thief, and from my time in _Il Vaticano_. All _for _you and _because_ of you." He stared at her without a word, tongue-tied. She bent down, put the chemise back on, turned and exited the room with a slam of the door.

Claudia, as expected, was waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase with raised eyebrows. "I thought you two were fighting to the death in there."

"I am going to finish Machiavelli's mission," she snarled. "Tonight. He will surely ask where I went in the next two minutes. Tell him you do not know."

There was a long pause, but Claudia nodded. "Fine. But look after yourself."

"I will," she promised in a toneless voice, striding out of the building with her head held high. She would prove him wrong. In one swift movement, she swung the door to the _Rosa in Fiore_ shut and marched off to hail a horse.

She would acquire information her way.


	7. Indipendenza

The Confessor

Chapter VII: Indipendenza

It took him longer than expected to calm down. The Assassin's thoughts were jumbled, and he hadn't moved from that small room Gemma had just run out of. What perfect timing, he thought, since the day after he would have to go rescue Caterina Sforza from the _Castel Sant'Angelo_. While undergoing such a mission, he would have liked to have peace of mind in order to not distract him.

A quiet knock came at the door. His mother slinked through the doorway, her eyebrows knit in worry. "_Cosa successe_, my son?" He had been worrying about his mother's health. Ever since she started speaking once again she had been holding herself up as strongly as possible, but he could see the cracks, and it concerned him. And her age played a large role, but that was a reality he was not prepared to confront yet.

"Gemma," he grunted. "She refuses to understand the position I am in."

His mother let out a soft, melodic laugh and sat beside him on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his back. "The both of you are so stubborn. Neither of you can see what troubles the other if you remain so close-minded."

"_Madre_, you do not understand. In terms of being a husband, I give her so much freedom. So much more than one sees in any normal family. But _my enemies_ – they will do anything to affect me."

"She has enough experience to defend herself, don't you think?" Maria asked.

Ezio shook his head. "Not enough to calm my nerves. Why can it not be like with you and father?"

"Do you think that was easy?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Your father would return at unpredictable hours of the night, sometimes so injured … it drove me insane that I was helpless to do anything for him."

"You tended his wounds," Ezio said, remembering the stories his mother told him when she returned into the habit of talking again. "And you waited for him every night and supported him by _being_ there and safely away from harm."

Maria gave him a gentle, maternal smile. "Do not compare my marriage with yours, my son. Gemma is a different person. Her past is more … violent. Bloodier and filled with darkness. But, tell me, would you have chosen her, had she been a normal woman?"

His eyes cast to the floor. "_Non lo so_."

"Allow me to answer it for you, then," she replied. "It is a 'no'. It takes strength to be in love with someone with your occupation, Ezio. And she has so much of it."

"She does," he agreed in a low voice.

"And that is what you must acknowledge before you reconcile with her," she instructed him, patting his shoulder.

"But, _Madre_, how can I rest easy knowing people like Cesare Borgia would gladly torture and _kill_ her without a second thought if she was caught?"

She shook her head, placing a hand against his cheek. "Cesare Borgia is not your problem, Ezio. Open your eyes. Gemma's greatest enemy is someone you cannot protect her from, even if you lock her away from the outside world forever."

"Who?" he demanded, alarmed.

"Herself," the woman answered. "Were she not so strong, you would have lost her years ago."

It was the aftermath of another horse race. Mancini had won, and it surprised no one. She had been watching him and his comrades for a large amount of time, a jungle cat stalking its prey with an endless amount of patience. She had gone back to Tiber Island and retrieved a blade which was strapped to her hip, along with a small dagger.

This felt far more natural. And with the help of Alessandro's clothing and Machiavelli's cloak, it was easier to move.

The sun had begun to set when they left the _Circo Massimo_ and she followed in suit, concealed by the growing shadows of the evening. It also helped that Roma was blessed with a vast amount of alleyways in which she could tail them without being noticed.

"Congratulations on another fine win, _Ser_ Donato," a companion of his exclaimed as they galloped casually through the streets.

He snorted. "Did you expect anything less?"

"Indeed! You are Roma's finest horseman."

"I will be much more than that in due time," he remarked, and it sounded dark and laced with a venomous arrogance. "Once Cesare acknowledges my role to the Order, he will surely promote me."

"I had a feeling he was more partial to Lia," the man murmured.

"Bah!" Donato said. "That _puttana_ has earned her place in Cesare's circle through sex – nothing more. It is unlike I, who has earned my rank through skill and loyalty." Lia? Another potential Templar? She listened in close, picking up her pace. But it seemed Donato and the other man were in no hurry whatsoever, which she could tell by the meandering speed of their horses.

She could not, however, hear anything more, because Alessandro and La Volpe had strolled right into her path. She was not worried about the boy, but Volpe was a different story altogether. She would not risk going anywhere near him in the attire she was in. She would not be surprised if he was aware of the story of her life, and so she refused to cross paths with him. Disguises are meaningless to such a man. He would see right through the material of her cloak and report back to Ezio, and she was in no mood to deal with him.

Gemma took an alternate route to Tiber Island, which she had managed to find on her rampage following the argument with Ezio. Thankfully for her, as she stepped into the bureau, there was no sign of Ezio. She strolled up to Machiavelli.

"Donato Mancini _is_ a Templar," she informed him. "Or could be a possible tool of Cesare, he was complaining about ranks."

The philosopher cocked an eyebrow. "How did you acquire this information?"

She shrugged. "I followed and listened. Easier than the frivolity of having to _personally_ deal with a man like him."

He smirked. "I suppose. Good work, then. I will add his name to a list of people I will give to Ezio to deal with when he has the time. Are there any other leads?"

"He mentioned a woman named Lia," she murmured. "Ranted about her gaining Cesare's favor through womanly means."

"A contact of mine has mentioned a smuggler who goes by the name of Lia," he mused, stroking his chin in pensive thought. "I will work on determining a location for you to start your search. In the mean time, make up with your husband."

The blunt manner in which he threw out the last command made her raise both eyebrows in shock. "_Scusi_?"

"This argument the both of you are having," the thinker commented, "how many times has this come up since you met him?"

She scowled. "Well over five thousand …"

"Exactly," he deadpanned. "Tomorrow, Ezio is going to the _Castel Sant'Angelo_ to assassinate Cesare and Rodrigo."

"And … what of Caterina Sforza?" she murmured, an image of the beautiful, powerful red-headed woman standing in Monteriggioni mere hours before its destruction. Had she not been present that day, God knows what her intentions with Ezio were.

Machiavelli paused a moment. "You know the answer to that question, Gemma. I am against it, but I have no doubt he will also rescue her."

A rescue mission was imminent. What worried her is that since they were on uncertain terms …

She shook her head, dispelling such thoughts. "I am not going to apologize to him."

"I may not be religious enough to call it conventional," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but pride _is_ one of the seven deadly sins for a reason." He leaned against a nearby desk and gave her a matter-of-fact stare.

She groaned. "Not you, too."

"I am not here to counsel your marriage with Ezio, nor do I care much for it," he asserted, crossing his arms across his chest. "It merely hinders his and your performances in your tasks in this city. That is why life is easier when you are in love with someone who is not involved in such complicated matters."

Gemma snorted. "A bit too late for that."

"_Lo so_." She muttered curse words under her breath, excusing herself to go upstairs to the apartment due to emotional and physical exhaustion. The door shut lazily behind her as she plopped down on a small chair in order to remove her shoes. She sat in the growing darkness, her body spent from the day's activities. It really was her fault for not keeping in shape.

Her thoughts began to swim in regards to her pride, but before long, she felt the world growing to a gradual shade of black. She would worry about it tomorrow.

She woke up the next morning on the bed, with the blanket draped over her. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and attempted to recall at any point of the night she moved to the bed. Combing her fingers through her unkempt hair, she stood up and stretched her arms into the air.

In no mood to change into a dress, she tucked Alessandro's chemise into her trousers, grabbed her dagger and was on her merry way. Descending the stairs, she squinted as the sun stood high over Roma, staring down at the city and its corrupted entirety.

She began to walk in the direction of the Castel Sant'Angelo, with no particular reason, although she wanted to see if Ezio had begun his mission. She came upon a large crowd gathered around a carriage. Curiosity piqued, she wove through some throngs of people and watched as a woman with goldenhair stepped out, and she vaguely recognized her from the villa attack. The woman stuck to Cesare Borgia's arm as if glued there while he destroyed the entirety of a village. After her, two armored guards pulled out a hostage. And it was none other than Caterina Sforza. The look on her face was as defiant and beautiful as ever.

"_Salve cittadini di Roma!_" The blond woman called out to the crowd, a smug smile on her pale face. "Behold a sight most splendid! Caterina Sforza – she-whore of Forli, has at last been brought to heel!"

Much to her surprise, Caterina responded. "_Ha_! No one kneels as low as Lucrezia Borgia! Who put you up to this – your brother or your father? Perhaps a bit of both? Perhaps at the same time!" She stifled a snort of astonishment at the woman's sheer _indifference_ to anything they could have done to her for speaking like that. A surge of respect welled through her for this woman. No wonder Ezio was so fond of her.

A scowl stretched across Lucrezia's face at the humiliation, and she stormed over and slapped her hard across the face. "_Chiudi la bocca_ – none speak ill of the Borgia!" The guards then began to pull her along toward the massive building in the background. "The same will happen to _any_ who defy us!"

"Good people of Roma!" Caterina cried out, pulling against her captors. "Stay strong! You will be free; your time will come, I swear it!" She frowned, hating the fact that she was helpless. God knows what they would do to her in that place, especially if Cesare was personally involved in the retrieval of information.

She turned and saw Ezio and Machiavelli have a seemingly intense discussion about the matter at hand, and she decided to slink away before being noticed. Concealing herself in a nearby shadow, she watched as Ezio straightened his back and began to stride toward the large stone bridge to Caterina. With a sigh to herself, she swallowed back the boulder of pride sitting in her throat and decided to go and wish him luck.

A shiver tore up Gemma's spine in that instant, and before she could even take a step out of the shadows, a hand clamped down over her mouth and tugged her deeper into the alley. Ezio drifted farther and farther away from her, oblivious to anything other than the mission in his head.

The point of a dagger pressed into the side of her neck. She blinked, and in the darkness made out a familiar face that filled her with shock and horror.

"Remus," he said with an unreadable expression. He removed his hand from her mouth, but kept the blade perched on her skin.

"Drago," she breathed. "You're alive."

"You know, you are quite bad at blending in," he remarked. "What if I was an assailant, hired to acquire your head? I could look and see the woman dressed in men's clothing. No effort on my part whatsoever."

Her muscles locked down, tense and unsure of the situation. "What are you doing here?"

"I _was_ born here," he replied. "And what is so wrong with seeing my old leader after so many years?"

**A/N: Ugh, junior year, y u do dis to me.**

_**Italian to English dictionary:**_

_**Cosa successe?**_** What happened?**

_**Non lo so**_**: I don't know.**

_**Scusi**_**? Excuse me?**

_**Cittadini di Roma**_**: Citizens of Roma**

_**Chiudi la bocca:**_** Shut your mouth.**


	8. Zero Assoluto

The Confessor

Chapter VIII: Zero Assoluto

Gods, why did everything have to unravel in so quick a time? Things looked _up_, Ezio had returned _alive_ from Roma and they were going to live in, dare she suggest it, peace and relative quiet. She wanted to punch her hand through a wall but all it would do was inconvenience herself and make her equivalent to an angry child.

"So tell me, are you still chasing after Ezio Auditore?"

That comment struck a nerve somehow. "What do you mean by that?"

"You abandoned us for him, so it is out of curiosity that I ask this," he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "I just want to know if it was worth it. And how quickly he abandoned you for his 'duty'. That _was_ the excuse, was it not, Gemma? He cannot bear to put you in danger due to the complexities of his life? And so he left you behind to rot."

Anger flared across her features at his sheer audacity. Without a word, she grabbed his wrist and slammed her fist into his gut. He made a sharp noise as the dagger fell from his hands and dropped with a _clang_ to the ground.

"How dare you?" she hissed. "The next time you try and talk to me like that, I will cut out your tongue and make you eat it. _Ciao_, Drago." She whirled on her heel and stormed off in the opposite direction. The nerve of him! She would rather repeat the situation with Dario twice rather than deal with Drago.

She could not manage to go far until he leapt down from the rooftops to block her. In the light, she could see how time had fared with him. His sandy hair had flecks of gray, and his handsome, blond-bearded face had the look of a man who had fought most of his life. He was dressed like a wealthy mercenary, however, with an expensive looking sword at his side. On his left eye, there sat a vertical scar stretching down the center. The mischievous, cocky young boy who had once been akin to a brother ceased to exist.

In his place was a man that seemed extraordinarily dangerous.

"That was the Remus I knew just now," he proclaimed with a broad smirk. Much to her surprise, he outstretched a hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Although you look more feminine than you used to."

She slapped his hand away with a scowl. She did not like others touching her, even more so in regards to her face. "What do you want, Drago?"

"You never answered my question."

"It is none of your business," she said through clenched teeth.

"Ah, so he _did_ abandon you?" he guessed. "So you decided to try and make something of yourself in Roma? A bit unwise, don't you think?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Did you confront me to try and belittle me?"

"Why in God's name would I do that?" he demanded with clear sarcasm. "You only abandoned us for some _bastardo Assassino_ who did not even have the courtesy to stick around."

There really was no point in not saying it anymore. "Drago, for God's sake, Ezio is–!"

"Who you chose over your own brothers?" he asked. "The reason why you are here, dressed like a man, parading around Roma as if she was yours?"

"Her husband." The both of them turned, and Dario was leaning against a nearby wall, his expression calm and tired. "Stop embarrassing yourself, Drago. It is unwise to disrespect an Auditore."

Drago shifted his gaze to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Is that true? You _married_ that _bastardo_?"

She nodded, looking him straight in the eyes. "I did."

"The past is the past," Dario deadpanned. "If you have come to harass her about it, you will have to deal with me." She hadn't the slightest clue why Dario, of all people, had decided to defend her from Drago's judgment. It irritated her, for she felt she did not deserve such a service from this man.

"You always loved to kiss her ass, didn't you?" he sneered, rolling his eyes. "Even when we were young. You stood by Remus' side like a dog, and after _she_ abandoned us I assumed you had learned your lesson. Old habits die hard, it seems."

He did not even flinch. "It would seem so."

"Have you no pride?" he demanded.

Dario shook his head, giving his old friend a small, sad smile that damn near broke Gemma's heart into hundreds of pieces. "None."

"Bah!" Drago snarled. "You have always been a lost cause." And that was all he said to the both of them, spinning in the opposite direction and stomping off into the hustle and bustle of the city. Gemma stood there, unable to word her gratitude to him.

"Dario …" she murmured. "Why did you …?"

He shrugged. "No one deserves to have their past flung in their face. I knew my presence would do that, but at least … I have moved on from it. Drago has not. And I doubt he shall ever."

"You have always been too kind to me," Gemma muttered.

"Perhaps," he agreed. He couldn't continue his sentence before Caterina Sforza, of all people, rode past the both of them, a sense of urgency on her face. Gemma looked after her in alarm. If she was there, where was Ezio?

She turned in the direction of the _Castello_ before Dario stopped her with a grab of her wrist. "Go back to wherever you both have your headquarters. Make sure that woman arrives there without a fuss – as she is a fugitive. I will go see that your husband is not in over his head."

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

"I do not rightly know," he replied. "But we don't have time to prattle – _go_!"

There was absolute chaos when Dario reached the scene outside of the Castel Sant'Angelo. Ezio Auditore, as expected, was fighting his way through throngs and throngs of guards and armored men. No one man could take on so many. He was bound to tire.

What he needed was a distraction to escape. And Dario knew he could provide that for him. As he reached into his pocket for a smoke bomb, a small voice in his head told him to stay his hand and let nature take its course. Let the bastard die, the voice said. It sounded like Drago.

Dario, however, had years of experience in ignoring this voice. And so he made his way over to a corner of the fray, kept his eyes fixated on the Assassin and threw the bomb to the ground, covering his mouth as the nauseating gas launched into the air. All of the men responsible for taking the Assassin's head began to hack and spew up saliva, and Dario took the chance to grab Ezio's arm and tug him out of the madness.

"If you do not want to be run through by a spear, it would be in your best interest to follow me," he said in a firm voice. A flicker of confusion flashed on the man's face, but he nonetheless followed after Dario, easily keeping up with him until they reached a dark, shadowed corner and sat until the chaos died down.

"Who are you?" Ezio demanded, an infuriating sense of déjà vu circling in his head.

"I would be surprised if you remembered," he replied. "Although the last time we spoke, granted, was not the most pleasant of situations."

The Assassin's face knit in concentration. "You … are one of Gemma's old friends, yes. Dario?" Ezio had chosen a random name from the three he could remember that had stuck by Gemma's side.

He nodded. "_Salve_, Ezio. It has been a long time."

"Indeed," he agreed with uncertainty. "What … are you in Roma for?" The unspoken reason for that question was as clear as day. _What do you want with Gemma_?

"I have my own reasons," he said, noting to keep his voice curt. "Either way, I did not save you out of kindness or any kind of regard for your life, Assassin. I could not care if you lived or died. I did it for your wife. And what I am about to say is for her, as well."

The man's face grew grave. "_Va bene_, tell me, then."

"She has an enemy that haunts her, now," Dario explained, his hand clenching into a fist. "I suspect you remember Drago?"

"The one with the big mouth?"

"That one, yes," he said with a nod. "I do not know for sure as of yet, but I fear he aims for her neck. The years have not been kind to his sanity."

Dario watched as the man's face shifted from alarm into something much darker, much more sinister. "I will make sure that that does not happen."

"Do _not_ underestimate Drago, Ezio," Dario warned him, fully aware of his tendency toward detrimental arrogance. "He is conniving, clever, devious, and a damn good hunter. It has been this way since we were young, and I am positive he has sharpened his skills with the accuracy of a master blacksmith. He is far from a boy anymore."

"Why?" Ezio demanded. "Why does he want to kill her?"

"Out of spite," Dario theorized. "Maybe he was recruited by Cesare, maybe not. Why is not your concern, however. Your concern is making sure he does not accomplish this task."

"Why do you tell me this, and not Gemma?"

Dario shook his head. "I am sure she suspects his intentions toward her are not in good spirits, but she also does not have the heart to kill him. I know her. She will not stain her hands with his blood because their relationship … well, it has always been something I envied in a way." He observed the tensing in Ezio's facial features as he divulged the information to him. Sick as it was to have a bit of fun with him, he saw no other way to hammer this into the man's head.

"If I told her, she would insist that she could handle it on her own, or maybe even deny that Drago would ever do such a thing," he continued, taking note that it probably irritated the Assassin that he remembered so much about her.

Ezio stood to his feet. "I thank you for this information."

"Do not tell her about this," Dario deadpanned, feeling a need to specifically line that rule out for him. "Be _subtle_, I beg of you. If you try to smother her, I promise you she will rebel. I do not care how much she loves you – trying to shelter a wolf will only make it more hostile toward you."

His eyebrows furrowed together. "She is not a wolf."

Dario smirked, not surprised he could not see the dual personalities. "A wolf lives inside of her, Assassin. And his name is Remus. If you have not noticed his presence yet, then you are not paying enough attention to her. Because he is there, and surfaces when she feels her survival is in jeopardy."

"You … suggest that Remus is a _different_ person? It is only a name she came up with to assume another identity."

"Open your eyes, Assassin," he commanded him, standing upright and turning in the opposite direction. The ruckus had died down. His job was done. "Remus has never only been a name."

If he could not figure out that little, then, he would not waste his breath.

He would have to simply learn the hard way.

Following Caterina Sforza's horse was no simple feat. She was at least grateful that the woman seemed to know where she was going, as the horse was moving in the direction of the _Isola Tiberina_. Gemma jumped from rooftop to rooftop, tailing the _contessa_ in silence until she crossed the bridge into the section of the city where the Bureau was.

She stopped her horse, surveying the area. It was as if she was looking for something, or someone. Gemma leapt down from her high view point and walked over to the _Contessa_ of Forli.

"You seem lost, _signora_," she commented as she ran a hand over the smooth fur of the woman's horse.

"What a pleasant surprise," Caterina replied with a slight smile. "Ezio told me to look for Machiavelli, but I prefer your company to his."

She grabbed the reins of the horse and began to steer it toward the Assassin's Bureau, but gave no reply to the woman. Her head was still fixed on a frustrating combination of Ezio's welfare and Drago. The unknown reason for his presence dangled over her head, taunting her. She knew him well enough to know he would not sink into the shadows – his pride would never allow such a thing.

"I hope it is not my presence that troubles you," she said all of a sudden. "I assure you, I have no intention–!"

"Hold your tongue, _Contessa_," Gemma quipped. "It is not you that worries me. It is another matter entirely."

"I see," she mused as Gemma began to maneuver the animal through the narrow passageways of Tiber Island. The citizens walking around them stared at the two women in alarm. One dressed like a man, the other on the horse dressed in nothing more than tattered undergarments – a mad sight to behold.

Once they had reached the door of the Assassin's Bureau, Gemma looked up to wait for Caterina to dismount. The woman hesitated for a moment, her jaw setting in a hard line.

"I am injured, so dismounting is impossible without help," she informed her, and Gemma could hear the embarrassment. Strength, however, had never been her strong suit. She was positive she could not carry Caterina Sforza two feet forward, let alone inside the Bureau.

"It seems you ladies have reached quite an impasse." Both turned their heads at the lilting voice of La Volpe as he appeared out of nowhere, as per usual. "I will see the _Contessa_ inside. Gemma, it would be wise to fetch a _dottore _to attend to her injuries."

"_Va bene_," she replied, walking off to see to that. It was easy enough to find a doctor, although they demanded quite a bit for house calls, which she found rather inconveniencing. The masked man strolled inside the Bureau with Gemma following in silence behind, and without a word he began to see to her wounds as Caterina pointed them out to him.

Gemma leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I expected Machiavelli to be here," Gemma commented as something of an afterthought.

"Machiavelli has been quite absent these days," La Volpe agreed, a lingering suspicion evident in his tone.

The talking stopped when the door opened. "Ezio," Caterina called out. Gemma suppressed a sigh of relief. Dario had done what he had said he would. She could rest easier, now.

"Where is Machiavelli?" Ezio asked, to no one in particular. He glanced at her against the wall, his eyebrows knitting together, giving him such a strange expression.

"I could not find him," she replied.

La Volpe sauntered forward. "It was Gemma that brought the _Contessa_ here."

"Gemma?" Ezio repeated, surprised. "How did you know about …?"

"Caterina," Machiavelli's voice called out, effectively cutting off Ezio's question. The scholar strolled forward in his usual position of hands behind his back.

"Care to tell us where you have been?" Volpe demanded, and it almost sounded like a wife nagging to her husband. She had a tiny laugh to herself at the mental imagery. The matters at hand, however, were not her concern. She was not an Assassin. And she still had her own little mission to see through.

Gemma managed to slip out unnoticed, what with the bickering. With a stretch of her arms into the air, she decided to seek out a horse and ask Claudia if she knew anything about this smuggler.

Making her way to the stables, she kept a keen ear out for any sign of Dario, Drago, or any other enemy she had managed to make in the time she spent in Roma. God knows what sorts of people she angered in such times.

A stable came into sight, and just as she reached its gates, she turned to see Machiavelli and Ezio strolling down the bridge to a scuffle between a man and Borgia guards. Curious by nature, she stalked up until she was within earshot, but went unnoticed by the two solemn men.

"We will recruit him to our cause," Ezio declared, stunning her. It did not work in such a casual way, she knew. Ezio had inherited the right to be an Assassin. She was not sure about Machiavelli or La Volpe, but it seemed to be the same way with the Templars, as well.

"You cannot be serious," Machiavelli said, and despite his face maintaining his usual calm, she could see the disbelief that was also evident on her own face.

Ezio seemed sure of his decision. "To win this war, Machiavelli, we need loyal soldiers. By recruiting enemies of the state, we arm those who have been disarmed by the Borgia."

He had a point. Machiavelli resigned. "Go, then. Recruit our first novices." Without a word more Ezio strode into the fray and with as little effort as usual, rescued the man in peril. She walked up to stand beside Machiavelli.

"Your target's full name is Lia de Russo. The closest thing I could find for a location was an ancient Bath area. Look around. I suspect she has made her mark on the citizens somewhere. Find out what you can, but stay hidden. Do not kill her just yet."

She nodded. "_Va bene_." The fighting had stopped and Ezio stood unharmed around a group of corpses, as the man bent to his knee in gratitude. He knew who Ezio was. She suspected the entire city was fully aware of who he was.

"The liberation of Roma has begun," he announced, not unlike an ancient Roman general in the legends she overheard in the streets, "if you choose to flee, do so now, but if you choose to fight, stand with me against the Borgia."

He offered his arm to the man, who took it without a second thought, and he stood to his feet – the both of them equal. "I am tired of hiding in the shadows – I will _join_ you!"

"Then seek Niccolò Machiavelli on _Isola Tiberina_," Ezio said. "And we will make you one of us. Their lies will no longer mask your truth." The man nodded, fast and excited about his new purpose in life. He dashed away from Ezio and ran past both Gemma and Machiavelli, who sighed to himself.

"It seems I have more work to do," he muttered, turning on his heel and calmly strolling back to the other side of the bridge. It took her a moment to realize Ezio was staring at her. Civilians looked on, wondering what the Assassin could want with the strange woman wearing trousers, but that was the least of her concerns. The stirring in the pit of her stomach as she took in the sight of his tall, broad frame creeping down into her trousers was what worried her. She was supposed to mad at him for being an overprotective, pompous, self-righteous _bastardo_ but her body seemed to assume otherwise.

His expression lacked any tangible emotion. As much as she wanted to utter an apology or any form of conversation starter, nothing manifested from her throat. And so the both of them stared at each other. A stalemate. Either too stubborn to say anything.

Gemma watched as he turned on his heel and strolled away, off to do his business recruiting rogues in the city. Regret bubbled in her stomach, but she chose to ignore it and focus only on the task she had to accomplish.

She shook her head to dispel any thoughts involving Ezio. Sighing, she went back in the directions of the stables. A shiver tore up her spine and she looked around, feeling as if she was being watched.

Ezio emerged from the darkness of an alley. The very last person she would expect to see. Confused, she walked up to him. "What … are you doing here?"

He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her into the shadows, her back meeting cold stone. He towered over her, and even in the dim lighting, could make out the hunger present on his face. "I have come to a small conclusion."

She feared the answer. "What?"

He rested his hands the wall and leaned in – but he did not kiss her. He left enough space between them to tantalize her, her lower lip trembling. "Despite how independent you are … you still want me."

Oh, God. That was a blow to her pride. He noted that, as well, and kept talking. "Is that so hard to admit, Gemma? That you want me? Is your pride silencing you with that, too? Such a _small_ thing."

"Let me go," she hissed.

"You have never wanted another man like you want me," he declared. He did not even sound arrogant. It was as if he was stating a simple fact. "And you have me. Here I am, Gemma. _Here I am_."

"What is this even about?" she demanded. He was right on all counts, but she was not about to admit that. "Why are you saying things like this?"

He stepped back. A part of her wanted to pull his warmth back. "Because the way you have been looking at me is not that of a wife, or a lover, or even a friend. Merely a burden. Putting aside all other things … do you _want_ me, Gemma? Because if you say no, I will leave you alone, just as you want."

Her hands clenched into fists and she looked away. He said nothing, nodded to himself, and began to walk away.

Gemma was not sure what came over her in that moment. "Ezio!" He stopped and looked back, waiting.

"_Cazzo_," she exclaimed, and her hands shot out to his arm and pulled him to her, quick as she could manage. She grabbed him by the collar and pushed up on the tips of her toes, kissing him with as much ferocity as she could muster. He responded as if second nature, adjusting himself and steadying their bodies against the wall.

She let out a shaky breath of hot air as he trailed his mouth down the side of her neck. "Was that difficult, Gemma?"

"_Chiudi la bocca_."


End file.
